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FROM-THE- LIBRARY OF
TR1NITYCOLLEGE TORONTO

PRESENTED A.D.19*.8 .„.

from the library of the
BY late Rev. G.H.Shortt

FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

Kibil Obsiat:

IOANNES WATERS

Censor Theol. Deputatus.

Imprimatur :

EDM. CAN. SURMONT

Vic. Gen.

Westmonasterii) die 4 Oct. , 1919.

FATHER

WILLIAM DOYLE

SJ.

ALFRED O'RAHILLY

Professor in the National University of Ireland
Registrar of University College, Cork

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

FOURTH IMPRESSION

LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO,
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON, B.C. 4.

55 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
BOMBAY, CALCUTTA AND MADRAS

1922

MAY 2 2 1948

PATRIBUS FRATRIBUSQUE
PROVINCIAE HIBERNIAE

SOCIETATIS IESU
HOC SOCII MONUMENTUM

PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION

AFTER the death of Father Doyle, who was not only
my friend but the guide and helper of several who
are near and dear to me, I undertook, at my sister's
suggestion, to write a brief memoir of his life. This task,
lightly undertaken as a personal tribute, has now grown into
unforeseen dimensions. Neither I nor anywie else then sus
pected the existence of a series of spiritual journals and
personal records which Fr. Doyle had written for his own
exclusive use and guidance. Had he died after an ordinary
illness in his own room, he would undoubtedly have
completely destroyed these intimate papers. It was the
chance, the providential chance, of his death as a martyr of
charity on a far-off Flemish battlefield which rescued these
notes from the fate that he had destined for them. They were
found among his few belongings in his room in Rathfarnham
Castle, accompanied by explicit instructions directing that
in the event of his death they should be burnt unopened.
Fortunately his Superior, Fr. J. Brennan, S.J., and his brother,
Fr. C. Doyle, S.J., decided that this injunction would be
best observed by formally violating a request which had
been inspired by motives that had ceased to count. These
papers were accordingly handed over to me ; and it is from
these intimate self-revelations, which were never intended
for any eye save the writer's own, that the greater, or at
least the more valuable, portion of the present book has been
compiled. Had I anticipated that this mass of material
existed, I would have left this biography to more competent
hands, especially as I could devote to it only some of the
scanty leisure of a busy life.

But having once undertaken it, I felt that I could not
act as a mere transcriber or editor. Without in any way
obtruding my own views, which in such matters are of no

Vlll.

PREFACE

account, I have attempted to give a study as well as a record.
I have sought not only to chronicle the thoughts and
experiences of Father Doyle, but also in some measure to
give them their true perspective by inserting them in the
rich and inclusive tradition of Catholic spirituality. With
this object in* view I have drawn, more extensively than is
usual in a mere biography, on other spiritual writers,
especially on those who were Fr. Doyle's favourite authors.
I have tried, in particular, to lay stress on the spiritual
ideals of S. Ignatius, as revealed in his Letters and in the
Spiritual Exercises, and to distinguish carefully between
these general ideals and their individual adaptations or
special developments. On this point I may have been
excessively careful and irritatingly insistent. But my
intention, however defective its execution, has been to make
this book not merely a sketch of the life of Fr. Doyle, but
also, as I am convinced he himself would have wished, the
prolongation of his life-work.

The latter portion of this memoir recounts Fr. Doyle's
experiences as Military Chaplain. It has been compiled
almost entirely from the letters or budgets which he used
to send home to be perused by his relatives and intimate
friends, without the slightest ulterior thought of publication.
In including these interesting letters from the Front, it has
not been my intention, any more than it was the writer's,
to make another addition to ' war literature.' This book
-claims to be simply the record of an apostolic life and the
study of a very remarkable spiritual personality. His
•experiences at the Front are of biographical and spiritual
interest and help to correct what might otherwise be a partial
or misleading impression.

In obedience to the decree of Pope Urban VIII. I protest
that all that is written in this life of Fr. Doyle has no other
force or credit than such as is grounded on human authority.
Hence no expression or statement is intended to assume
the approbation or anticipate the decision of the Church.

Were it not for the continual assistance and encouragement
of Father Charles Doyle, S.J., this memoir would never

PREFACE ix.

have been undertaken or written. Father F. Browne, S.J.,
readily supplied me with information on many points con
nected with the last two chapters. I have to thank my
sister, Sister M. Anthony, for much help in transcription.
The map was kindly drawn for me by Mr. D. R. Kennedy,
B.E. I am much obliged to the printers, Messrs. Purcell
and Co., Cork, for their interest, attention and efficiency.

Cork, F&bruary, ig2o.

PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION

ONLY a few minor changes have been made in this
edition. I have added in an Appendix some further
letters of Fr. Doyle which have subsequently come
to light. In an Afterword I have attempted, by some
general considerations on Catholic hagiography, to reply to
the very few unfavourable criticisms which have reached
me. The publication of Fr. Doyle's Life has been amply
justified by the unexpectedly rapid sale of the first edition.

Cork, July, 1920.

PREFACE TO NEW IMPRESSION.

T I THE second edition was sold out immediately on
-l_ publication. I set about preparing a final and
complete edition, but circumstances over which I had
no control interfered with my work. I am therefore com
pelled to re-issue the second edition in order to satisfy the
insistent demand. I have added a photograph of Fr. Doyle
at the age of fifteen ; and in the light of further information
I have modified the note on page 328.

Military Prison in Field,

Bere Island, June, 1921.

CONTENTS

•

Chapter

I. Childhood and Youth (1873—1891)

Page

II. From Noviceship to Priesthood (1891 — 1907) 10 — 29

I. Tullabeg (1891— 1893)

2. Clongowes (1894 — 1898)

3. Philosophy (1898 — 1901)

4. Clongowes and Belvedere (1901 — 1904)

5. Theology (1904—1907)

6. Some Notes written during Theology

III.

Tertianship (1907 — 1908)

30—39

IV.

Diary of Long Retreat (1907)

40—63

Apostolate

. .

64—86

I . Missions and Retreats

.. 64

2. Retreats for the Workers

.. 7I

3. The Holy Childhood

•• 79

4. Vocations

.. 80

VI.

Inner Life

. .

87 — 121

i . Introduction

.. 87

2. Interior Union . .

3. Personal 'Attachment to Christ

A Praver

107

VII.

Mortification and Suffering

• • 3

:22 — 169

I . Self -Conquest

122

2. Life of Immolation

•• 133

3. Priestly Sanctity and Reparation

•• 154

4. Holy Follies

.. 161

VIII.

Spiritual Direction

]

70—213

I . His own Soul

170

2. Director of Others

i?3

3. Discouragement

178

4. Union and Abandonment

187

5. The Cross ...

195

6. Little Things ...

201

7. Praver

2O6

8. Mortification

. . 211

Xll.

CONTENTS

Chapter

IX.

Mil
i.

3-
4-
5-
6.

7-
8.

itary Chaplain 1916
The Great Adventure . .

•

Page
. . 214—274

215

220
221
226

Cure of Mazingarbe

•

23T

242

251
200

Another Spell at the Front .
The Somme
Christmas at the Front

X. Military Chaplain 1917

275—335

•t.

Easter in the Pas de Calais .
May Devotions
The Padre in the Trenches
Wytschaete Ridge
His Last Sermon
The Battle of Ypres . .
The End . .

. •

275
279
283
291
302

307
. 326

Appendix (Further Letters)
Afterword (An Apology for Saints)
Index

336—357
358—374

375

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Portrait of Father Doyle
Schoolboy, Novice, and Scholastic
Father Doyle at the Age of Fifteen
Father Doyle, Aberdeen, 1908
Map of the Front
Military Chaplain

Frontispiece
.To face page 2O

„ „ 86
„ 170

Page 223
To face page 260

FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

CHAPTER I.
CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH (1873—1891)

IT is chiefly in the light of a man's subsequent development
that the incidents of childhood become interesting and
significant, for the child is father of the man. It is often
in the artless sayings and doings of the child, and in the
impulsive spontaneity of the youth, that we can best discern
that groundwork of natural character which in the man
is generally concealed by conventionality or self-control.
Unfortunately in the case of the present biography the
records are scanty, but by collecting some scattered anecdotes
and reminiscences, it has been possible to trace in the boy
hood of the future Jesuit and Apostle some of those human
and lovable characteristics which remained to the end.

William Joseph Gabriel Doyle was born at Melrose,
Dalkey, Co. Dublin, on 3rd March, 1873. His father is
Mr. Hugh Doyle, an official of the High Court of Justice
in Ireland, who is still alive and active though in his eighty-
eighth year ; his mother was Christina Mary Doyle, nde
Byrne.1 Willie was the youngest of seven children, four
boys and three girls. The eldest and youngest of the girls
married ; the second became a Sister of Mercy. The eldest
boy after a short stay in the Jesuit Novitiate entered Holy
Cross College, Clonliffe, whence he passed to the College of
the Propaganda, Rome. Ten days before his ordination he
caught fever and died in 1887 in the twenty-eighth year of

i. — She died at 7 a.m. on igth March, 1915, at the age of 83. Willie had
jus't returned from a Mission in Glasgow and so was able to be with her at the
end and to say Mass immediately for her. Next year, in a letter from the Front
(i7th March, 1916) he writes to his Father : "I shall not forget the anniversary
on Sunday, though I doubt if she needs our prayers."

2 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

his age. The second son entered the legal profession and
is the present Recorder of Galway. Willie's third brother,
a few years older than himself, and the inseparable companion
of his boyhood, became a Jesuit.

Willie was a frail and delicate child, though like most
highly strung children, he had great reserves of energy. All
through life, indeed, ill-health was one of his great trials,
and for some years before his death he suffered acutely from
an internal complaint. But, curiously enough, his nearest
approach to death was due, not to sickness, but to an
accident. When he was quite a little fellow, his nurse
one night placed a lighted candle on his little cot, probably
to enable herself to read or sew. The nurse fell asleep, and
the candle overturned and set the bed clothes on fire.
Fortunately his father, who was sleeping in the next room,
was awakened by the smoke and rushed into the nursery.
He found the cot on fire, and little Willie fast asleep with
his legs curled up, as though he felt the fire creeping towards
him. In an instant the child was lifted out of bed, and the
mattress and bed clothes thrown out through the window.
As a military chaplain Father Willie once laughingly alluded
to this escape as his first experience under fire.

For all his future holiness, Willie was by no means a stilted
or unnatural child. He played games and he played pranks ;
and though he cannot be said to have been naughty, he
was also far from being irritatingly or obtrusively pious. It
is consoling to find that, like most of us, he played at being
a soldier. He was seven years old when it was decided
that he should emerge from the stage of velvet suit and
long curls. On his return from the fateful visit to the
hairdresser's, his mother seemed sad on seeing Willie with
his shorn locks. But the little fellow himself was delighted,
and sturdily insisted that soldiers did not wear curls, at
least not nowadays. His mother had to make a soldier's
suit for him, with red stripes down the sides ; and when
he won a great battle, a couple of stripes had to be added
to one sleeve ! This is how his old nurse describes his
youthful exploits :

" His love to be a soldier even from his babyhood was
wonderful— to fight for Ireland. He would arrange his

CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH 3

soldiers and have them all ready for battle. The nursery
was turned upside down, to have plenty of room for fighting,
building castles, putting up tents, all for his soldiers. Poor
nurse looked on, but was too fond of him to say anything.
He and a brother with some other little boys were having
a great battle one day. He was fighting for Ireland ; his
brother was fighting for England, as he said his grandmother
was English. There was a flag put up to see who was able
to get it ; the battle went on for some time, then in a moment,
Master Willie dashed in and had the flag in his hand, though
they were all guarding it. They could not tell how he got
it ; he was the youngest and smallest of the lot."

How curiously and prophetically appropriate is this
characteristic of him, who was to be enrolled in the Company
of Jesus and to die on the battlefield as a soldier of Christ !

There are many indications that Willie's youthful militarism
was prompted by something deeper than a primitive instinct
of pugnacity. Just as in after years he loved to aim at the
Ignatian ideal of " distinguishing oneself in the service of
one's Eternal King," so, even as a youngster, he felt the
call to be foremost in energy and service. Long before he
read of the saint of Manresa, he had a natural affinity with
the soldier of Pamplona. And it was not always the mimic
battle of the nursery ; even at this early age he started real
warfare, he began a life-long struggle against himself. At
the beginning of Lent, when he was quite a little boy, an
old Aunt, chancing to go into his Mother's bedroom, found
him gesticulating and talking in front of the mirror. " You
villain, you wretch," he kept saying to his reflection, " I'll
starve you, I'll murder you ! Not a sweet will you get,
not a bit of cake will you get ! "

This is one of the few glimpses we obtain of Willie's interior
life during his boyhood. Even of his maturer soul-struggles
we should know little or nothing were it not for the chance
preservation of his notes and diaries. There is a danger
lest these revelations of penance and mortification should
mislead a reader, who was not personally acquainted with
Fr. Doyle, into fancying that he was exteriorly repellent
or gloomily ascetic. Throughout his life he retained a fund
of humour and kindliness ; no one would suspect his slow

4 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

struggle for self-mastery and perfection. That even in
boyhood he sought self-conquest and recollection, and
experienced the working of God's grace, we can have no
doubt. There is no record, however, save in the archives
of Him who seeth in secret, where even the sparrow's fall is
registered and the hairs of our heads are numbered. But
neither in youth nor in after life was his virtue fugitive and
cloistered ; his light so shone before men that they saw his
good works, his thoughtful kindness and self-sacrificing
charity.

No man, it is said, is a hero to his valet ; at any rate,
domestic servants are apt to be severe critics. Willie,
however, was deservedly a favourite. He always tried to
shield the maids when anything went astray or was neglected.
He was ever on the look out for an opportunity of some
act of thoughtfulness. Thus sometimes after a big dinner
at Melrose, the cook would come down next morning and
find the fire lighting and the dinner things washed. Willie
had been playing the fairy ! Again, whenever a maid was
looking ill, he used to volunteer privately to do her work.
A servant of the family, who gave many years of faithful
service, still remembers her first arrival at Dalkey. As she
was timorously proceeding to Melrose, she met the two
brothers walking on stilts along the road. " How are you,
Anne ? " said Willie, divining that this was the new maid.
He alighted and insisted on taking whatever she was
carrying. Before she had her things off, he had tea ready
for her.

" I know I was really awkward after leaving the rough
country," writes Anne. " I had got orders to have the
boots cleaned that evening. But the good saint took them
out to the coach-house and brought them in shining. No
one knew only Kate (the parlourmaid) he did it so quietly.
To put it off he made the remark, ' I dare say you have no
such thing in the country as blacking.' Not understanding
the coal fire, and while I was learning, he would run down
stairs and have the fire lighting and the kettle on by the time
I would arrive. Then when breakfast was ready, he would
come to the kitchen and ask how did I get on with the fire
that morning ? "

CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH 5

For the poor people on Dalkey Hill Willie constituted
himself into a Conference of St. Vincent de Paul. He raised
funds by saving up his pocket-money, by numberless acts
of economy and self-denial ; he begged for his poor, he got
the cook to make soup, he pleaded for delicacies to carry
to the sick. Once he went to the family apothecary and
ordered several large bottles of cod-liver oil for a poor con
sumptive woman, and then presented the bill to his father !
He bought a store of tea with which under many pledges
of secrecy he entrusted the parlourmaid. On this he used
to draw when in the course of his wanderings he happened
to come across some poor creature without the means of
providing herself with the cup that cheers. He by no means
confined himself merely to the bringing of relief. He worked
for his poor, he served them, he sat down and talked familiarly
with them, he read books for the sick, he helped to tidy
the house, he provided snuff and tobacco for the aged. One
of Willie's cases — if such an impersonal word may be used —
was a desolate old woman whose children were far away.
One day noticing that the house was dirty and neglected,
he went off and purchased some lime and a brush, and then
returned and whitewashed the whole house from top to
bottom. He then went down on his knees and scrubbed
the floors, amid the poor woman's ejaculations of protest
and gratitude. No one knew of this but the cook and
parlourmaid who lent him their aprons to save his clothes
and kept dinner hot for him until he returned late in the
evening. While thus aiding his poor friends temporally, he
did not forget their souls. He contrived skilfully to remind
them of their prayers and the sacraments ; he also strongly
advocated temperance. There was one old fellow on the
Hill whom Willie had often unsuccessfully tried to reform.
After years of hard drinking he lay dying, and could not
be induced to see a priest. For eight hours Willie stayed
praying by the bedside of the half-conscious dying sinner.
Shortly before the end he came to himself, asked for the
priest and made his peace with God. Only when he had
breathed his last, did Willie return to Melrose. His first
missionary victory !

When we hear of these acts of charity and zeal exercised

6 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

at an age which is often associated with selfish thought
lessness, we may be inclined to imagine that Willie Doyle
was a prim, stilted, ' goody-goody ' sort of boy. Nothing
of the kind. He had a wonderful freshness and spontaneity.
One never could feel that his kindness was artificially
produced or that his goodness was forced. His virtue, like
his laugh, had the genuine ring in it. One of his most
endearing characteristics throughout life was his sense of
humour. " Don't take yourself too seriously," he once said
to a rather lugubrious would-be-saint ; "a sense of humour
is one of the greatest aids to sanctity." As a boy he was
full of humour, even when he was doing good. He once
brought to one of his poor people a carefully wrapped parcel
which was joyfully acclaimed as a pound of butter ; but
when extricated it proved to be a stone ! Next day, how
ever, the real article, with much more besides, was brought
to console the good woman. Sometimes Willie was able to
combine kindness and fun. Thus, in order to shield the
maids, he used to rake and settle the cinders on top of the
ashes, and he would then wait for his grandmother — who
had a little weakness for insisting that the cinders were
sifted — and always enjoyed her remark, "Oh, how nicely
cook has the cinders riddled ! " With his brother Charlie
he loved to engage in fun and frolic. As schoolboys they
used to amuse themselves by dressing up as " nigger
minstrels," blackening their faces and hands. For this
purpose Willie saved up and bought a banjo. All the
household, including the maids, used to be assembled for
these entertainments. Some of us who feel alas ! that we
have too little in common with Fr. William Doyle, can thus
at least claim human kinship with Willie Doyle !

Between Willie and his brother, Charlie, there was a close
bond of attachment from early days of childhood. As they
were only a few years apart in age, they were naturally more
closely united with one another than with their elder brothers
and sisters. Together they learnt their first letters, together
they fished and bathed, and built themselves a wonderful
house in the branches of a mighty elm, together they knelt
and prayed. Their prayers and catechism and all things
religious were lovingly superintended by the future nun of

CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH 7

the family, whom her young brothers,, with boys' quick
instinct for hitting off a character with a name, dubbed
"' the missionary," thereby also recording a tribute to their
sister's religious influence. Willie's devotion to his elder
brother was remarkable even in a household where all the
members of the family were so united and affectionate.
Nothing was too good for Charlie, everything was shared
with him — sweets, secrets, sorrows. Wherever he went,
Willie followed, ready to run, to fetch and carry at a word
from his brother ; and when bed-time came the last good
night, conveyed in a mysterious formula, was always to
Charlie. And these two who as boys played and studied
together, fought their mimic battles together, and shared
their little joys and sorrows, were destined not to be divided
in life. For in ways mysterious they both joined the Society
of Jesus.

In September, 1884, at the age of eleven, Willie went to
Ratcliffe College, Leicestershire, conducted by the Fathers
of the Institute of Charity, where his elder brother had
already spent a year. Here in the cloisters and classrooms
of Pugin's beautiful college six pleasant and profitable years
were passed. A good place was consistently secured at the
various examinations, and every year saw one or more prizes
brought back to delight the dear ones at home. Willie
excelled at sports ; he was for several years a member of
the cricket eleven and of the football team. This proficiency
at games stood him in good stead years afterwards when
he became one of the Prefects at Clongowes. He was a
general favourite among his school-fellows, and his brother-
in-law, at whose house in Sheffield he usually spent the
Christmas vacation, declared in a letter that Willie was " the
nicest schoolboy he had ever met." Each summer found
the two brothers home in Ireland. Vacation time passed
in boyish games and amusements ; yet, as the years went
on, the more serious side began to show itself in Willie's
character. It was then that he developed more and more
his love for the poor and helpless. At times he would slip
away from the cricket and tennis and seek out his poor on
Dalkey Hill, where " Master Willie " was a welcome visitor.
There was one family of his own name, with many

8 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

ramifications on the Hill, which was the object of his special
predilection. By a curious coincidence one of the first men
he met on joining his regiment after his appointment as
military chaplain was a William Doyle, a grandson of his
old friend on Dalkey Hill.

In the summer of 1890 Willie left Ratcliffe. During his
last year at college his health had given cause for anxiety.
It was therefore decided that he should remain quietly at
home, in order to build up his strength and reflect on his
future. What this future would be, those who knew him
never doubted. It had long been an open secret in the
family that Willie would be a priest. He himself had never
any doubt or hesitation. Beneath all his boyish fun and
lightheartedness there lay, discernible to a careful observer,
a life of deep purposive faith. This was shown not only
in his pure upright character, his generous unselfishness, and
his love of Christ's poor, but also in his childlike piety. Long
before the decree of Pope Pius X. which restored frequent
and daily Communion, Willie was a weekly communicant.
His devotion to our Blessed Lady was also noticeable ; he
always went to her altar when he paid a visit to the church.
The priesthood seemed but the logical development of a
life thus begun.

In July, 1890, Willie paid a few days' visit to St. Stanislaus'
College, Tullamore, the Novitiate of the Irish Province of
the Society of Jesus, where his brother, Charlie, had entered
ten months previously. One day during the visit the subject
of Willie's vocation came up for discussion. Charlie knew
that Willie was going to be a priest. But was it a secular
priest or a religious ? "I hope soon to enter Clonliffe," said
Willie. " Did you ever think of the religious life ? " asked
his brother. " Never ! " was the emphatic reply. " I have
always wanted to fill the gap left by Fred's death, and to
become a secular priest." " But do you know anything
about the religious state ? " persisted the zealous novice.
" No, nothing," said Willie ; " but in any case I would never
come to this hole of a place ! " This led to an animated
discussion concerning religious Orders in general and the
Society of Jesus in particular. Willie was so far shaken as
to accept a copy of St. Alphonsus Liguori's work on the

CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH 9

Religious State,1 with a promise to read it and to think
over it. The sequel can be told in Willie's own words :

" On Christmas Day I was alone in the drawing-room
when Father came in and asked me if I had yet made up my
mind as to my future career. I answered ' Yes ' — that I
intended to become a Jesuit. I remember how I played
my joy and happiness into the piano after thus giving myself
openly to Jesus."

On 3ist March, 1891, Willie entered the Jesuit Novitiate
of Tullabeg, near Tullamore, King's Co.

i. — Instructions and Considerations on the Religious State. Eng. trans, (no
date) published by the Art and Book Co. See p. 81.

io FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

CHAPTER II.

FROM NOVICESHIP TO PRIESTHOOD

(1891 — 1907)

(l.) TULLABEG, (1891 — 1893.)

WHEN half way through his second year's novitiate
Willie's health began to give anxiety to his superiors,
and a complete nervous breakdown following a fire
at the College led to his being sent to his home in Dalkey
for some months. In fact there was question at this time of
his having to leave the novitiate for good owing to his health.
Several doctors declared he was quite unfit for the strain of
religious life, while superiors were almost unanimous in their
opinion that he should not be kept. But Willie clung to his
vocation, which he felt was from God ; and the Provincial, Fr.
Timothy Kenny, who from the first had formed a high idea
of the young novice, declaring him to be " as good as gold,"
supported him warmly. A few months of his native air
and among his beloved poor on the Hill, who joyfully
welcomed back " Master Willie " and saw very much of
him now, restored strength and steadiness of nerve, and
after making good in the novitiate the time he had spent
at home, Willie had the happiness of taking the three vows
of religion on the I5th August, 1893.

Only a few stray sheets survive to give us all too meagre
information concerning the inner life of the novice.
Fortunately one precious little document remains to attest
his astonishing fervour.

A.M.D.G. ac B.V.M.
My Martyrdom for Mary's Sake.

" Darling Mother Mary, in preparation for the glorious
martyrdom which I feel assured thou art going to obtain
for me, I, thy most unworthy child, oh this the first day
of thy month, solemnly commence my life of slow martyrdom

TULLABEG n

by earnest hard work and constant self-denial. With my
blood I promise thee to keep this resolution, do ihou, sweet
Mother, assist me and obtain for me the one favour I wish
and long for : To die a Jesuit Martyr.

May ist, 1893.

May God's will, not mine, be done ! Amen."

The words here italicised are in the original written with
the writer's own blood for ink ; and on each side of the
word " martyr " is a smudge of blood, as if thus to seal his
compact with our Lady.1 One feels that it is a sacred
privilege to gaze after the lapse of twenty-six years on this
touching contract between the Jesuit novice and his heavenly
Mother, chivalrously sealed with his blood. Think of the
twenty-four years of life which remained to the novice !
Right well did he keep his compact ; his was a " life of slow
martyrdom by earnest hard work and constant self-denial."
And the compact was kept in heaven also. As on earth of
yore, " Mary kept all these words, pondering them in her
heart." Our Blessed Lady obtained for him the one favour
he wished and longed for. William Doyle died a Jesuit
Martyr.2

Some reflections and resolutions which he recorded during
the triduum of preparation for his vows, have also happily
survived and may here be set down.

" It depends entirely on myself whether I become a saint
or not. If I wish and will to be one, half the battle is over.
Certainly God's help is secured. Every fresh effort to become
holy gets fresh grace, and grace is what makes the soul holy
and pleasing to God.

" God has a work for each one to do ; the devil also. For
each one can be an influence for good or evil to those around.
No one goes to heaven or hell alone. Unless I am holy, I
may do the devil's work. The closer I try to imitate the
Sacred Heart, the holier shall I become. How can I get
nearer that Divine Heart than by receiving Holy Communion
often and fervently ? The Sacred Heart will then be next

i. — Compare Bl. Margaret Mary's resolution written in her blood. — Life
(Visitation Library, Roselands, Walmer, Kent, 1912), p. 42.
2.— Even as a boy he longed to be a martyr. See pp. 53, 251.

12 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

my own and will teach me quickest and best how to be a
saint.

" Can I refuse to become holy when God Himself entreats
me to be holy ? ' Walk before Me and be perfect.' ' Be
perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.' Another great
motive for becoming a saint — the wish, the command of
God ! I have been called by God to be a member of the
Society of His Son. To be a true Jesuit I must be a close
imitator of Jesus Christ, an ' alter Christus.' The Society
was instituted to glorify the Name of Jesus by its learning,
by its zeal, but above all by its holiness. I must, therefore,
strain after three things : to become learned, an authority
on all subjects, not for self or the glory of self, but for God
and the glory of God ; to become a lover of souls ; to become
holy, this first and foremost, because the Jesuit without
sanctity is no true son of Ignatius.

" O loving Saviour, forgive me the past, accept me
repentant, help me, for I am going to become with Thy
assistance — A Thorough Jesuit and a Great Saint."

(2.) CLONGOWES, (1894 — 1898.)

Soon after taking the vows of religion Willie's health
again broke down. So once more he was sent to recuperate
in his native air and as before with good results. By the
following August he was able to take up his new duties in
Clongowes Wood College to which he was now assigned.
Willie was stationed in Clongowes during two periods, from
1894 to 1898, and again from 1901 to 1903. His first year
there was spent in teaching, the other five as prefect. He
showed considerable ability as a teacher, but other qualities
which he possessed decided his superiors to entrust him
with the difficult work of prefecting. As prefect he won
remarkable success and popularity. He was a good organiser,
excelled in all outdoor sports, while he threw himself with
characteristic energy into the interests and activities of the

CLONGOWES 13

little world around him. With the boys he was a favourite.
He was very kind and very just, two qualities that appeal
to boys and win their respect and esteem. Yet there was
a certain awe mingled with their affection, for, as they used
to say, they could never quite make him out. This was
the result of his imperturbability and eveness of temper,
joined to a strong will and virile character. He was never
angry with the boys, yet he always had his way ; they simply
had to do what he wanted them to do.

One who was under him as a boy writes : "I first met
Fr. Doyle when I was a small boy at Clongowes. He was
then Third Line Prefect, and had under his care some seventy
or eighty boys ranging from ten to fifteen years of age. This
particular set were rowdy and quarrelsome, and during my
first year in the Line there were two periods, at least, of
acute disturbance. Not that the trouble circled round
Fr. Doyle or was directed against him, nor was it caused
by any act on his part, but arose out of feuds among the
boys themselves. The manner in which Fr. Doyle dealt
with this difficult situation impressed me even at the time,
and I have been more deeply impressed again and again
in retrospection. Hot tempered by nature, I believe, he
never allowed himself to be carried into arbitrary action by
the intemperate or unreasonable conduct of those in his
charge. He was firm, but never unjust ; indeed, if he erred
at all, it was on the side of leniency. But apart from his
self-control, the quality that struck me most was his
optimism, his breezy cheerfulness in the midst of difficulties.
He never lost his good spirits ; he never seemed to be
depressed ; he never appeared to consider for a moment
how trouble in his department affected himself ; he was
intent always on setting others on the right track.

" I recall one memorable scene. It is a common occurrence
in Clongowes for one cricket club to challenge another. The
consequences for the loser are serious, since the beaten side
is liable to confiscation of its bats, pads, in fact all its good
gear, and to get in exchange the battered property of its
rival. This is the material aspect of the result, but there
is a more important element at stake, the loss or gain, namely,
of prestige. In the instance to which I refer, the game

14 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

was keenly contested and feeling ran high. The junior
club won eventually by a narrow margin. Whereupon the
beaten side declared that the victors had ' doctored ' the
score. Immediately there was uproar, and quiet was restored
only when someone proposed that Fr. Doyle should be called
in to arbitrate. He gave the case against the defeated
eleven. This verdict so exasperated one of the boys that

he called Fr. Doyle a ' d cheat ! ' This outburst cleared

the atmosphere and produced a sudden calm, as nobody
knew what would follow this amazing piece of impudence.
But Fr. Doyle did nothing. Two or three days passed, and
the culprit, who was prepared to take a flogging and hate
his Prefect to the end of his days, began to grow sorry for
his conduct when he saw that no move was being made
against him. At last he apologised, offering to accept
punishment, but Fr. Doyle only laughed good humouredly,
and gave him biscuits and lemonade and a few pieces of
sound advice. Fr. Doyle won a fast friend and a most
loyal supporter, but his self-control under the circumstances
needed character.

" Fr. Doyle's example worked good. His cheerfulness, his
energy, his enthusiasm were infectious and inspiring. His
whole conduct was marked by gentleness and a kindly
thoughtfulness that gained him loyalty and affection. In
the playing fields he was a tower of strength. I can still
recall the admiration with which I watched him play full
back, or stump a batsman who had his toe barely off the
ground. But above all he gave the impression to us boys
of one who lived much in the presence of God. I know one
boy, at least, who entered the Society of Jesus, partly, at
any rate, because Fr. Doyle was such a splendid man and
splendid Jesuit."

Another who lived and worked with Willie in his early
days in the Society and at Clongowes writes : " Thinking
of Fr. Willie Doyle, I recall especially his gay, light-hearted
ways, the cheery laugh and snatch of song with which he
enlivened recreation hours or holiday excursions. Into the
latter he threw himself with zest and was an excellent com
panion. He could not resist the temptation of indulging
from time to time in a practical joke. Practical jokes are

CLONGOWES 15

not welcomed by everyone, but he carried them through
with such good humour and playfulness that the victim
was soon tempted to relax and join in the laugh. Indeed
his love of a joke never wholly deserted him. He grew
graver as he had more and more to do with the burdens
and cares of life — and how many were the persons whose
burdens he helped to carry ! — but even to the end he retained
in a large measure his gaiety of heart and his cheery outlook.
Nothing seemed able to depress him for any length of time.

" One did not have to live long with him to see that his
gaiety of disposition, an essential part of his nature though
it was, was still only the sparkle on the surface, and that
below it ran the current of a downright earnest religious
life — a current that deepened and gained in strength as he
advanced in life. Not. .that he made any ostentation of
piety or asceticism — there was not the slightest sign of this
about him. On the contrary, he was ever reserved about
himself and guarded closely the secrets of his spiritual life.
But many little acts of self-restraint, self-denial and self-
sacrifice, made me feel that he was trying seriously and
steadily to acquire the solid virtues which befit a man who
would give himself wholly to God.

" After the novitiate and juniorate Fr. Doyle and I were
together for some years in Clongowes Wood College. In
the life there, with its larger liberty of action, new phases
in his character showed themselves. He began to display
a more than common spirit of initiative and enterprise, an
energy and resourcefulness in carrying out what he had
undertaken, and a marked tenacity of purpose. His pro
duction of The Mikado may be instanced. For some
considerable time elaborate plays had not been attempted
at Clongowes, owing to the heavy demands on time and
attention made by the Intermediate examinations. When
Mr. Doyle obtained permission to try his hand at producing
this opera, he seemed to be attempting the impossible. Few
good singers and actors were known to be among the boys.
Everything was wanting, scenery, costumes, and the money
to buy them ; and above all time to practise, for the studies
could in no way be allowed to suffer. There appeared to
be a sufficiency of one thing only — cold water ; and that

16 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

was freely poured on the scheme. Mr. Doyle kept his own
counsel and set to work quietly and determinedly. He
unearthed talent, trained his actors and singers assiduously,
enlisted help, and by his tact, energy and perseverance, he
overcame every obstacle, and in the end The Mikado was
a triumphant success and proved to be one of the most
brilliant performances ever witnessed on the stage of
Clongowes.

"As another instance of his spirit of initiative I may
mention the starting of the college magazine, The Clongownian,
of which he was the Founder and the first Editor. Here
again there were the usual difficulties and opposition to a
new venture, but these were put aside with unfailing courage
and perseverance, and the first number of The Clongownian
appeared during the Christmas of 1895.

" Though not a Clongownian Mr. Doyle had much to do
with the founding of the Clongowes Union which was proposed
and worked up in The Clongownian for a considerable time
before it actually came into being.

" Viewing his character as a whole, it seems to me that
the fundamental quality in it was courage — courage of a
fine and generous type. When confronted with difficulties,
with danger or labour or pain, instead of hesitating or weakly
compromising, he was rather braced to a new and more
intense resolve to see the matter out. Give in, he would
not. It was this courage, supported, no doubt, by a natural
liveliness of disposition, that enabled him to preserve through
life his gaiety of heart and to face his troubles as they came
with a smiling countenance ; it was this courage, too, that
steeled him to hold fast to his purpose no matter what
difficulties or obstacles might arise."

We have here the testimony of one who for many years
lived and worked with Fr., or, as he was then, Mr. Doyle.
It is the more valuable as the writer could only guess at
the inner life of him whom he pictured as remarkably
courageous and encouragingly cheerful. Unfortunately, no
intimate jottings of this period could be found ; so we can
only dimly conjecture the deep undercurrent of faith and
grace which made Willie Doyle so wholehearted and efficient
in carrying out the duties which obedience had assigned.

CLONGOWES 17

There seems to the outward glance an enormous difference
between the claustral seclusion and silence of Tullabeg and
the busy bustling life of Clongowes. We find it curious
that the demure introspective novice should rather suddenly
develop into a distracted college prefect immersed in games
and plays. That is because we miss the inner key, the
Ignatian ideal of God in everything. The point is worth
emphasising if we would rightly understand the life of a
Jesuit, such as this biography. In 1551 St. Ignatius wrote
to the Rector of Coimbra that " he desired to see all the
members of the Society animated with such a spirit that
they do not find less devotion in works of charity and
obedience than in prayer and meditation, since they ought
to do everything for the love and service of God our
Lord."1 Ignatius consistently refused to increase the time
allotted to scholastics' daily prayer beyond one hour. He
once said to Fr. Nadal that " no one would ever make him
change his opinion that one hour was sufficient for those
engaged in study, provided they have mortification and
self-denial ; for thus they will easily fit more prayer into a
quarter of an hour than others who are unmodified into
two hours "2 " During their works and studies," he wrote,3
" they can lift their hearts to God ; and if they direct every
thing to the divine service, everything becomes a prayer."

It is this apostolic fusion of work and prayer which a
Jesuit noviceship is designed to produce. The semi-monastic
quietness and solitude is not an end in itself ; it is merely
the stillness of the power-house where unseen, but energy-
laden, currents are generated. When Brother Doyle resolved
as a novice to begin a " life of slow martyrdom by earnest
hard work and constant self-denial," he was not only a true
child of St. Ignatius but he was making a resolution destined
to be immediately realisable. He who erstwhile had his
heart set on the priesthood had to turn aside and devote
the fresh energy of his youth to minding thoughtless and
unruly youngsters, settling their little squabbles, entering

i.- — Epistolae iii. 502. ( Monumenta Historica S.J.)

2.. — Scripta de S. Ignatio 5. 278. As a matter of fact a Jesuit Scholastic nowa
days has at least two and a-half hours of daily prayer.
3. — Epistolae vi. 91.
B

18 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

into their petty interests, mending cricket gear, and rehearsing
theatricals. Earnest hard work was done in full measure,
and has received its human tribute. God's angels alone
can estimate the constant self-denial involved. How little
can the world's coarse thumb and finger plumb the inner
depths of what outwardly is serenity, pleasantness, and
ready service ! In this period of Willie Doyle's life we can
see only the outer expression, later on we shall be privileged
to read the record of his soul. It is well to realise now that
seemingly natural activities and humdrum duties are based
on an inner struggle and a life of faith. It will be well to
remember afterwards that an interior life of slow martyrdom
does not imply an unnatural or morose exterior.

(3.) PHILOSOPHY, (1898—1901.)

In the ordinary course of events the young Jesuit
Scholastic,1 on emerging from the two years' noviceship,
spends one or two years in the " juniorate " completing
his college studies ; or, more usually nowadays, he studies
for a university degree. After this he pursues a course of
philosophy for three years, and only then is he sent to some
college to act as master or prefect for some years before
he begins his theological studies. In the case of Willie Doyle
considerations of health led to a deviation from the usual
course. His juniorate had to be interrupted by a long visit
to his home in Dalkey, and when sufficiently recovered, he
was sent to Clongowes. After he had worked four years
there, it was decided that he was sufficiently strong to resume
his studies. In 1898 he was sent to Belgium to study
philosophy. He joined the exiled French Jesuits of the
Champagne Province, who had a house of studies at Enghien,
near Brussels. But continental life told severely on a

J. — A Jesuit is a "scholastic" during the whole formative perioc? from his
first to his final vows.

PHILOSOPHY 19

constitution that was still delicate, and he suffered much.
Through it all, however, he was just the same cheerful,
lighthearted comrade as before, repressing any sign of pain
or discouragement he may have felt, and breaking out every
now and then into some audacious prank that made him
the wonder and despair of the good French fathers. After
a year of ill-health he was transferred to Saint Mary's Hall,
Stonyhurst, where he pursued his philosophical studies for
two years more. Even here bad health continued and made
work very hard, but he persevered unflinchingly. Though
suffering very much from digestive trouble, he never com
plained and was always bright and cheerful. His
extraordinary good spirits were most remarkable, indeed
quite infectious. It was difficult to be out of sorts in the
company of one who was known to be suffering, but who
nevertheless was full of fun and gaiety. Yet he could be
very determined and earnest; and when he took anything
in hand, he saw it through to the end, cost what it might.

Among the philosophers at Stonyhurst, Willie was a
universal favourite ; his simple, unassuming character, his
high spirits, above all his readiness to sacrifice himself for
others, endeared him to everybody. He was at Stonyhurst
during the Boer War when feeling naturally ran high among
the different nationalities which formed the community, but
though he took a different view from the majority with
whom he lived, he never lost the respect and esteem of any,
even of those from whom he most differed. Thanks to his
playful vivacity he could venture to joke and chaff about
matters that touched differences of national sentiment, and
by so doing he helped to prevent any sense of strain from
creeping into the situation. His love of fun was inexhaustible
and led to many amusing incidents. One of the winters he
spent at Stonyhurst was very severe and there was much
tobogganing. Willie was very anxious to possess a sledge
that would be a credit to the Old Country — he was always
thoroughly Irish. Accordingly he approached the Father
Minister of the house for permission to get the carpenter to
finish a toboggan for him. It turned out that the
" finishing " meant the making it, Willie's part being to
furnish the wood and the idea. When " finished," the
" Irish Mail " was the envy of all !

eo FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

No records survive to tell us of Willie's inner life at this
period. Just one letter has been found. It was written
to his parents from Stonyhurst on 3ist March, 1901, and
was evidently treasured up as a precious keepsake consoling
to the heart of a Catholic father.

" Ten years ago, to-day, I went to Tullabeg and entered
on my career as a novice of the Society. Looking back on
it all now, it seems hard to realize that ten long years have
gpne by since that eventful day on which I took a step which
has meant so much for me, and which, thank God, during
all this time I have never for a moment regretted. Our
Lord was very good to me at that time, smoothing away
many difficulties and making that day, which, to human
nature at least, was full of sorrow, one of the happiest of
all my life.

" I remember well my arrival at Tullabeg and the way
I astonished the Father Socius (as he told me afterwards)
by running up to the hall door three steps at a time. He
was not accustomed, he said, to see novices coming in such
a merry mood, evidently enjoying the whole thing; and,
though I did not know it then, it was the best of signs of a
real vocation.

" Since then I have gone on from day to day and year
to year, with the same cheerful spirits, making the best of
difficulties and always trying to look at the bright side of
things. True, from time to time, there have been trials
and hard things to face — even a Jesuit's life is not all roses —
but through it all I can honestly say, I have never lost that
deep interior peace and contentment which sweetens the
bitter things and makes rough paths smooth.

" I think this will be a consolation to you, dearest Father
and Mother, for I have often pictured you to myself as
wondering if I were really happy and content. I could not
be more so, and were I to look upon religious life from the
sole aspect of what makes for the greatest happiness, I would
not exchange it for all the pleasures the world could offer.
Thank God for all His goodness, and after Him, many grateful
thanks to you both, dearest Father and Mother, for that
good example and loving care to which we all owe
so much."

CLONGOWES AND BELVEDERE 21

(4.) CLONGOWES AND BELVEDERE, (1901 — 1904.)

Having completed his course of philosophy, Willie returned
to Clongowes in 1901 for another period of prefecting. Here
he remained for two years, and he was then transferred
to the teaching staff of Belvedere College, Dublin, where he
spent a fruitful year of labour. For, as the immediate
preparation for the priesthood drew near, zeal for souls that
was afterwards to become so strong and ardent, began now
to show itself more markedly in his life. He did much good
work for the Apostleship of Prayer and for temperance
among the boys in Belvedere, with whom he was even more
popular than among those he had left behind in Clongowes.
The stirring little talks he gave occasionally to his class
made an impression which some of his pupils still recall.
Especially was he insistent on the spirit of self-sacrifice and
on Holy Communion. His attractive character and kind
ness led many of the boys to give him their confidence and
seek help and counsel in their difficulties and doubts ; and
more than one vocation was discussed and decided at these
interviews.

A fellow religious who lived with him during his last years
in the colleges, and who was in America at the time of his
death, wrote : "I can safely say he was a perfect Jesuit
and often reminded me of St. John Berchmans. His was
a combination of real solid piety with a truly human
character. Bright and joyous himself, he always made
others happy and was evidently happy to be able to do so.
To those who knew his self-sacrificing devotedness there
could be no doubt as to the identity of the heroic Irish Padre
the first despatches recording his death spoke of. So certain
was I, that I told my friends here that the hero was Fr. Willie.
Only three weeks later did I receive corroboration from the
Irish papers." Yet later on Willie was to reproach himself
for his want of zeal and general tepidity during his years
as prefect and master. " I only wish you could see," he
once wrote to a dear friend, " how heartily ashamed of
myself God makes me by each fresh grace. Perhaps you

22 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

will realize this better when I tell you that at one period
of my religious life, before I was a priest, I led a very careless
spiritual existence. It began by overwork — of my own
making — so that often I was not in bed until three in the
morning, with the usual results. I felt at last I was walking
near the edge of the precipice, while all £he time, though it
may sound incredible, God was tugging at my heart for a
life of perfection, and I was writing down at each triduum
and retreat my determination to become with His grace
a saint ! Can you understand now why I am so eloquent
on the tepid religious ? This could not go on. I was driven
half mad by the thought of the abuse of grace and the gentle
pleading day and night of Jesus. Then in the midst of all
this tepidity, when I was praying little, when there was
hardly a deliberate act of self-denial in the day, there came
an extraordinary grace — one I felt I could not resist — to
make the Holy Hour each week. I actually began to do
so, though at the time it must have been torture to me, I
think. I would not do what God wanted me to do, so He
made me. I fought against Him like a tiger, but His mercy
and patient gentleness won ; and I should be a strange
ungrateful creature if I did not long now with all my soul
to love Him passionately."

We gather from this touching letter of self-revelation
that, strenuously active and efficient as he was at his college
duties, he felt that " God was tugging at his heart for a life
of perfection " and grace was urging him to more than
ordinary holiness. Now, too, he began a practice which for
the remainder of his life he regarded as a fruitful source
of grace and strength : the Holy Hour. Looking back
indeed on these years in the light of his maturer experience
and spiritual progress as a priest, he bewailed them as years
of careless abuse of grace. God grant that many of us
may reach even such " tepidity " !

THEOLOGY 23

(5.) THEOLOGY, (1904 — 1907.)

In September, 1904, Willie Doyle went to Milltown Park,
Dublin, to begin the study of theology. He now felt the
handicap of the deficient course of philosophy which his
ill-health had necessitated. But he worked hard and
courageously, not so much to become a brilliant theologian
as to obtain a solid knowledge of all subjects useful to the
sacred ministry. While he diligently studied Latin manuals
which he must have often found dull and difficult, he was
not unmindful of Father de la Colombiere's advice to a
young theologian : " For myself, had I the opportunity of
going through my theological studies again, I would, I can
assure you, give to meditation double the time devoted to
reading. It is only by meditation that one can gain any
insight into things spiritual or form any stable opinion upon
matters controversial."1 The officially prescribed theological
lectures and textbooks are, after all, only the skeleton ; it
is left to the student himself, or rather with God's grace, to
add substance and life. Willie Doyle strove not only to
advance in personal holiness, but also carefully devoted
himself to conscientiously preparing himself for his future
work of retreats and missions. The numerous manuscript
books which at this time he filled with extracts, spiritual
considerations and sermon-plans, serve to show us that it
was by diligent drudgery and faithful cooperation that he
merited God's blessing on his fruitful subsequent ministry.

He seems at this time to have kept a private spiritual
diary, but of this only a few detached leaves remain. One
of these is dated 25th November, 1906, and bears the title,
" The Practice of Humility " :

" I will strive to get a great contempt for myself, to think
little of and despise myself, and to pray and desire that
others may do the same. I have nothing which God has
not given me ; I can do nothing without God's grace and

i.— E. Sequin, Life 6f the Ven. Fr. Claude de la Colombitre, 1883, p. 33. The
Cure of Ars, let us not forget, failed at his examination in theology. — Life by
A. MoRiiin, Eng. trans. (Burns & Gates, n.d.), p 35.

26 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

(6.) SOME NOTES WRITTEN DURING THEOLOGY.

Among the notes which Fr. Doyle recorded during his
theology, there are many which have a personal touch and
embody his own ideals and aspirations. Some of them will
be here quoted in order to help us to understand his ideas
of holiness. He who was soon to be perhaps imprudent
himself, at least made no mistake as to what constituted
true sanctity.

" How many deceive themselves," he wrote, " in thinking
sanctity consists in the ' holy follies ' of the saints ! How
many look upon holiness as something beyond their reach
or capability, and think that it is to be found only in the
performance of extraordinary actions. Satisfied that they
have not the strength for great austerities, the time for much
prayer, or the courage for painful humiliations, they silence
their conscience with the thought that great sanctity is not
for them, that they have not been called to be saints. With
their eyes fixed on the heroic deeds of the few, they miss
the daily little sacrifices God asks them to make ; and while
waiting for something great to prove their love, they lose
the countless little opportunities of sanctification each day
bears with it in its bosom." (Sept... 1905.)

Again he writes to the same effect.

" What is it to be a saint ? Does it mean that we must
macerate this flesh of ours with cruel austerities, such as
we read of in the life-story of some of God's great heroes ?
Does it mean the bloody scourge, the painful vigil and
sleepless night, that crucifying of the flesh in even its most
innocent enjoyment ? No, no, the hand of God does not
lead us all by that stern path of awful heroism to our reward
above. He does not ask from all of us the holy thirst for
suffering, in its highest form, of a Teresa or a Catherine of
Siena. But sweetly and gently would He lead us along the
way of holiness by our constant unswerving faithfulness
to our duty, duty accepted, duty done for His dear sake.
How many alas ! who might be saints are now leading lives
of indifferent virtue, because they have deluded themselves

NOTES DURING THEOLOGY 27

with the thought that they have no strength to bear the
' holy follies ' of the saints. How many a fair flower of
innocence, which God had destined to bloom in dazzling
holiness, has faded and withered beneath the chill blast of
a fear of suffering never asked from it." (April, 1905.)

Word$ such as these, coming from the pen of one who
was not unfamiliar with scourge and vigil and fast, are helpful
and consoling. Not that they picture the path of holiness
as other tlian the royal road of the cross. Fr. Doyle wished
rather to remove the mirage of an unreal and impossible
cross from the way of those of us whose true holiness is to
be found in meeting the daily and hourly little crosses,
humanly inglorious perhaps, but divinely destined for our
sanctification. In the lives of canonised saints, and of him
whose life we are recording, there are doubtless ' holy follies '
and grace-inspired imprudences. But these are not the
essence of sanctity ; they are its bloom, whereas its stem
is self-conquest. Without these there can be great holiness —
no terrifying penances marked the life of St. John Berchmans
or of that winsome fragile nun who is known as the Little
Flower. But without the slow secret mortification of doing
ordinary and mostly trivial duties well, there can be no
spiritual advance. Heroism is not a sudden romantic
achievement ; it is the fruit of years of humdrum faith
fulness. This is not only the lesson of Fr. Doyle's heroic
life and death, it is the idea which here at the outset of his
apostolic career he clearly fixed for himself. His favourite
motto was St. Ignatius's phrase, agere contra : Act against
yourself. Into these two words there is condensed the essence
of practical and delusion-proof holiness. Act, not merely
think or feel ; not against outer or imaginary enemies but
against our lower selves. " How much is comprised in the
little words agere contra ! Therein is the real secret of
sanctity, the hidden source from which the saints have drunk
deep of the love of God and reached that height of glory they
now enjoy." (Oct., 1905.)

Again he records his view of heroism, which always had
an attraction for his chivalrous, impulsive, generous nature.

" Heroism," he says, " is a virtue which has an attraction
for every heart. It seems to lift us out of our petty selves

26 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

(6.) SOME NOTES WRITTEN DURING THEOLOGY.

Again he writes to the same effect.

NOTES DURING THEOLOGY 27

Word$ such as these, coming from the pen of one who
was not unfamiliar with scourge and vigil and fast, are helpful
and consoling. Not that they picture the path of holiness
as other tlian the royal road of the cross. Fr. Doyle wished
rather to remove the mirage of an unreal and impossible
cross from the way of those of us whose true holiness is to
be found in meeting the daily and hourly little crosses,
humanly inglorious perhaps, but divinely destined for our
sanctification. In the lives of canonised saints, and of him
whose life we are recording, there are doubtless ' holy follies '
and grace-inspired imprudences. But these are not the
essence of sanctity ; they are it's bloom, whereas its stem
is self-conquest. Without these there can be great holiness —
no terrifying penances marked the life of St. John Berchmans
or of that winsome fragile nun who is known as the Little
Flower. But without the slow secret mortification of doing
ordinary and mostly trivial duties well, there can be no
spiritual advance. Heroism is not a sudden romantic
achievement ; it is the fruit of years of humdrum faith
fulness. This is not only the lesson of Fr. Doyle's heroic
life and death, it is the idea which here at the outset of his
apostolic career he clearly fixed for himself. His favourite
motto was St. Ignatius Js phrase, agere contra : Act against
yourself. Into these two words there is condensed the essence
of practical and delusion-proof holiness. Act, not merely
think or feel ; not against outer or imaginary enemies but
against our lower selves. " How much is comprised in the
little words agere contra ! Therein is the real secret of
sanctity, the hidden source from which the saints have drunk
deep of the love of God and reached that height of glory they
now enjoy." (Oct., 1905.)

Again he records his view of heroism, which always had
an attraction for his chivalrous, impulsive, generous nature.

" Heroism," he says, " is a virtue which has an attraction
for every heart. It seems to lift us out of our petty selves

28 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J

and make us for a moment forget our own selfish interests
It appeals irresistibly to the noble-minded ; to the cowardly
even, it is a powerful stimulus. Thus it is that in all times
the saints have ever had such an attraction for men — they
are heroes ! In their secret hidden lives of prayer and
penance men saw a heroism which was not the one sharp
pang of a fearless deed, leaving their names to history as
a nation's pride, but a nobler heroism of a life of countless
noble deeds, unknown perhaps to man ; by God alone were
their secret victories seen." (Nov., 1905.)

A few months later he wrote out a short sermon on Heroism,
taking as his text 52. John x. n. : " The good shepherd
giveth his life for his sheep."

" And you, (he cries), wives and bread-winners, have you
no task within the fold, no little flock to tend and guard ?
Has not God committed to your care the innocent lambs,
the little ones of your household ? Within the pasture of
your own family are you the good shepherd, or the thief
and the hireling ? . . . Jesus does not ask from His
shepherds now the shedding of their life-blood But He
does ask from them a death more hard, more lingering, a
life-long death of sacrifice for His flock, . . . the daily
crucifying of every evil passion, the stamping out of sloth,
of anger, of drunkenness, the constant striving after the
holiness of your state of life. . . . Look upon the great
Christ, the Good Shepherd, hanging on the Cross. He is our
model, our hero. Gaze well upon His bleeding wounds, His
mangled limbs, that sad agony-stricken face. Look well,
and pray with generous heart that he may make you in word
and deed heroes in His service." (April, 1906.)

The final phase of Fr. Doyle's life has been so often described
as heroic by those who were well fitted to estimate heroic
service in a human cause, that these few thoughts on heroism
written many years before, must have for us not only a
biographical interest, but an earnest impressiveness. They
were not only written, they were lived.

A similar personal interest attaches to this little sketch
of St. Francis Xavier's death.

" Xavier's hour has come, the hour of his eternal reward
and never-ending bliss. In a little hut, open on all sides

NOTES DURING THEOLOGY 29

to the biting blast, the great Apostle lies dying. Far from
home and all that makes this life pleasant, far from the
quiet of his own religious house, alone upon this barren
isle, our Saint will yield his soul to God. What joy fills
his heart now at the thought of the sacrifices he has made,
the honours he has despised, the pleasures left behind. Happy
sufferings ! Happy penances ! He thinks of what his life
might have been, the life of a gay worldling, and in gratitude
he lifts his eyes to thank his God for the graces given him
What matter now the hardships he has endured ? All, all,
are past, for now the sweet reward of heaven is inviting
him to his eternal rest." (3 Dec., 1905.)

As we read of this death-scene of the great Jesuit apostle,
unsheltered and unhelped, in his wind-swept hut on San-
Cian, our thoughts inevitably pass to another Jesuit
missioner's death-bed on the shell-swept ridge of Frezenberg
Thus, too, he faced his eternal rest.

30 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

CHAPTER III.
TERTIANSHIP (1907—1908)

TWO years in the novitiate, seven years in the colleges,
three years at philosophy, three years at theology — it is
a long professional course. But it is not yet completed.
St. Ignatius did not consider the Jesuit fully formed until, in
addition to the two years' noviceship, he has undergone a
third year of probation, or a tertianship, as it is called. The
long years of study and teaching have left their impress on
the religious, especially if pursued with that thoroughness
which the Founder inculcates. " Let them anxiously and
constantly apply their minds to their studies ; let them in
their prayers frequently ask for the grace to advance in
learning." So speak the Rules for Scholastics. And
assuming this programme to have been carried out,
St. Ignatius considered that his men needed a year in " the
school of the heart " before they were fit to work in Christ's
vineyard. The tertianship is the noviceship over again ;
once more the spiritual exercises are undertaken for an
entire month. Yet there is a difference, for after years of
study and discipline, the raw schoolboy has developed into
a mature religious and has been ordained priest. The
tertianship is the last training-period of a Jesuit, often it
is his last chance of quiet leisure and spiritual reflection.
Hence for many it is a turning-point in life ; it sheds a new
light on the past hurried years seen now in critical retrospect,
it creates energy and reawakens ideals which permanently
influence the future. So, at least, it was for Willie Doyle.

In October, 1907, he went to Tronchiennes, near Ghent, to
make his tertianship. For business reasons his route to
Belgium was through Pa? is. This gave him the opportunity
of making several excursions of devotion, some details of
which survive in an account which he sent home. A kind
friend had provided him with his fare second class to Paray-
le-Monial, the home of Saint Margaret Mary. By travelling

TERTIANSHIP 31

third class he was able to go to Lyons and thus visit Ars, to
whose saintly Cure, Blessed John Vianney, he had a special
devotion. At Paray the Jesuit Fathers were living scattered
in twos or threes about the town. He found his way to a
poor little house where he was welcomed by an old, almost
blind, French Jesuit who was just sitting down to supper
when he arrived. "A lay brother put before me," he wrote,
" what I thought was a rather large bowl of soup for one ;
but nothing daunted I was starting to demolish the lot
when the brother whispered in alarm : Oh, mon pere, c'est
pour tous ! "] Here at Paray Fr. Doyle had the happiness
of saying Mass at the very altar where our Lord appeared
so often to Saint Margaret Mary. In spite of missing a
train, and after an adventurous journey on a very primitive
steam-tram, he found himself in the spot hallowed by the
Cure of Ars. Fr. Doyle insisted on seeing everything — the
room in which the saint died, the half-burnt curtains said
to have been damaged by the devil, the little pan in which
the holy man cooked the flour-lumps which he called cakes.
He was allowed as a special privilege to sit in the Cure's
confessional, and above all he was able to say Mass at his
shrine, using the saint's chalice. Just above the altar
reposed the Cure's body in a case of glass and gold. " It
gave one a strange feeling," wrote Fr. Doyle, " to see the holy
old man lying before one during Mass, calm and peaceful,
with a heavenly smile on his face, just as he died fifty years
ago." " I shall never forget my visit to Ars," he concluded ;
" I knew all about the Blessed Cure's life, so that each spot
had an interest and charm for me."

After this Fr. Doyle spent two days in Lyons, saying Mass
twice at the shrine of our Lady of Fourvieres. Then back
to Paris where during an interval of business he paid a visit
to what was once the Jesuit house in the Rue de Sevres.
"All the Fathers are gone," he wrote, " and now in each room
of the huge house a family is living, for it has been let by the
Government as a tenement house, whilst the beautiful church
has been turned into a cinema hall. In another street where
we had a large college, a stage has been erected on the very

i. — " Oh, Father, that's for all of you ! "

32 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

altar ; and where people once heard Mass, they now listen
to music-hall songs. A stirring contrast to this is the per
petual adoration at Montmartre — bands of women pray all
day and men watch at night." Fr. Doyle's little trip was
soon over and he arrived in Tronchiennes a few days before
the opening of the Long Retreat (the Spiritual Exercises
for thirty days), which, with three " repose days " lasted
from loth October till 13th November. Writing in December,
Fr. Doyle thus refers to the retreat and the tertianship :

" I shall not try to describe the Long Retreat, as we call
our thirty days' retreat. It is a wonderful time and leaves
an impression on me such as no number of eight days' retreats
could do. There is no doubt that it is a trying time, though
I found it much easier than I expected. But the thought
that this is the Great Retreat, the harvest time of graces
helps one wonderfully. The thirty days' retreat is indeed
a great privilege, yet the year we are given here is even a
greater favour. St. Ignatius intended that, after devoting
fifteen or sixteen years to acquiring all the knowledge possible,
this year of tertianship should be devoted wholly to the
study of perfection ; hence practically the entire day is
given to spiritual things. Are we not fortunate in having
such an opportunity of doing something for our souls and
acquiring a store of grace for the battle which is to come ? "

Father Doyle was much helped by the Spiritual Father,
Pere Adolphus Petit, (author of the well-known book, Sacerdos
rite instructus), and he thus describes him in a letter :

" There is a wonderful little old priest here, named
Fr. Petit, small in name and small in size — he is about three
feet high. He is eighty-five, but as active as a man of thirty,
being constantly away giving retreats. I have tried several
times to get down to the chapel at four o'clock in the morning
before him, but he is always there when I come in. He is
a dear saintly old man with wonderful faith and simplicity
In the middle of an exhortation in the chapel, he will turn
round to the Tabernacle and say : ' Is not that true, my
Jesus ? ' He is giving a retreat here this moment to a
hundred and ten gentlemen."

It is from his tertianship to his death that Fr. Doyle's
spiritual notes are most copious. He had evidently

TERTIANSHIP 33

destroyed all his earlier manuscripts. Even those which
now survive were destined for the flames. The writei left
strict instructions that all his personal notes should be des
troyed. It is only by disobeying the author's pious wishes —
an act which, now that he is beyond the temptations of
earth, he will surely forgive — that these self-revelations have
been reverently rifled, in the hope that thus his good work
for souls may be prolonged, and that though dead he may
yet speak to us. Only let us remember that these intimate
outpourings were written solely for God and himself. We
are not reading an autobiography or a journal intime written
for publication. We are privileged to see the real inner
development of a saint, a hero in the making.

According to these notes the tertianship was a landmark
in Fr Doyle's life. He went apart into a desert place to
commune with his Master ; his sojourn was to him a rebirth ;
he emerged reinvigorated and recreated ; henceforth to him
to live was Christ and to die was gain. It was especially
in the Long Retreat — his notes on which will be presently
given — that the call to heroic perfection came to him clear
and strong, concentrating into its intensity all the past
yearnings of a lifetime. But indeed during the year (July
1907 to July 1908) he had altogether fifty-two days of
retreat — eight days before ordination, thirty days in the long
retreat, two triduums, and eight days more at the close of
the tertianship. In January, 1908, he also gave a retreat
(his first) to some fifty girls in a convent at Hamont, near
Antwerp ; and during the Lent of that year he gave missions
in Aberdeen and Yarmouth. Altogether it was for him a
wonderful year of grace and fervour.

This is how he reviewed the year during his retreat in
July, 1908 :

' I have finished the tertianship. Looking back on the
past year, I see now in how many ways I could have spent
this time more profitably, been more faithful to order of
time, more exact, etc. At the same time I thank God from
my heart that this year has been fruitful in grace, and, I
feel, has worked a wonderful change in me. I feel a greater
desire to do all I can to please God and to become holy ; a
greater attraction for prayer, more desire for mortification

34 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

and increased facility in performing acts of self-denial. I
know the work of my sanctification is only begun, the hard
work and the real work remains to be done.

" This closing retreat of the tertianship has confirmed
the resolution made during the Long Retreat to refuse God
nothing, to strive might and main to make up for the past
wasted years of my religious life by all the fervour and
earnestness I am capable of.

" The desire to be a saint has been growing in my heart
all during this year, especially the last couple of months.
God has given me this desire ; He will not refuse the grace,
if only I am faithful in the future. How good you have
been to me, O my God, waiting so patiently for me to return
to You ! Help me now generously to do all You want me
to do. Amen."

He then recorded a solemn resolution to shape the
remainder of his life according to two great principles : (i)
Vince teipsum — Age contra (Conquer thyself — Act against)
(2) Communia non communiter (Common things uncommonly
well.) These are indeed the leading ideas of that type of
spirituality which we may call the Ignatian, so much has it
been impressed on the Catholic world through the
instrumentality of the Spiritual Exercises of the Spanish
soldier-saint. He does not seek to prescribe with mechanical
precision the free flight of the soul to God or the workings
of the gratis-given graces of the Holy Spirit. Rather does
he show how " to conquer oneself and regulate one's life
and to avoid coming to a determination through any
inordinate affection." His object is to remove obstacles
and, so to speak, to give God a chance. This he does by
leading men to perform spiritual exercises, to become soul-
athletes and soldiers of Christ, to undergo a sort of drill
and discipline. St. Ignatius is intensely earnest and
practical, he applies conscious determination to every detail.
In his meditations such phrases as id quod volo, (what I
wish), and ut fructum aliquem capiam, (that I may reap
some fruit), are typical of his practical view of prayer as a
consciously designed means to self -conquest. " Vincc,
teipsum," wrote Fr. Doyle in some notes of a retreat for
priests. " This is the secret of the Exercises. ' I learnt no

TERTIANSHIP 35

other lesson from my master Ignatius,' said St. Francis
Xavier, referring to his first retreat at Paris. Here we all
fail — good men, zealous men, holy men. Prayer is easy,
works of zeal attractive ; but going against self, till grace
and perseverance give facility, is cruel work, a hard battle."

St. Ignatius, with the true instinct of a general, wishes us
not merely to defend ourselves against sensuality and
deordination, but to take the offensive (agere contra), if we
wish to be distinguished (insignes) in the service of Christ.
And once more with soldier-like precision, Ignatius plans
the campaign. He will have no vague enthusiasm, no
emotional generalities ; he is always relentlessly methodical
and detailed. Vince teipsum is not enough, he also adopts
the policy of divide et imp era.1 He did not invent the
Particular Examen,2 which attacks sins or faults one by
one or essays the conquest of virtues in single file ; but
he helped to make it a widespread practice of the spiritual
life. St. Ignatius merely laid down the general rule of
attempting one thing at a time and concentrating one's
energy on an immedia e objective. It is for each, under
proper guidance, to apply this maxim of spiritual tactics
to his own character and circumstances. Intensified into a
process of spiritual statistics — such as Fr, Doyle adopted
for his aspirations3 — the Particular Examen would certainly
be unsuitable to many souls. In all such delicate matters
of spiritual psychology there are no rigid general rules.

Fr. Doyle's second maxim " common things not
commonly " is adopted from St. John Berchmans, and is
thoroughly characteristic of St. Ignatius's realism, and what
may be called his idea of intensive culture rather than mere
extension. " I will strive ever to perform each action as
perfectly as possible," continues Fr. Doyle, " paying special
attention to small duties, e.g., saying grace, odd Hail Marys
etc. It seems to me that God is asking this particularly

I. — Divide and conquer.

2. — On this see also p. 112. Even the pagan Sextius practised a daily exam
ination of conscience (Seneca, De ira iii. 36, i). Cassian (Collationes v. 14)
advocated the Particular Examen. (The word 'examen' is hardly English, but
it has become so customary in Catholic devotional literature that it would be
pedantic to avoid it.) Benjamin Franklin (who presumably never read the
Spiritual Exercises) practised this method and kept a graphical record of
particular faults. — Autobiography ch. 6, ed. Hutchinson & Co., 1903, p. 97.

3.— Seep. 113.

36 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

from me, and by this means I am to find the chief road to
sanctity." In appearance this resolution of minute fidelity
is modest and easy ; but in reality it constitutes a slow
heroism of self-conquest, a martyrdom, whose pain is drawn
out into a life-long succession of pin-pricks. Thus^ testified
P6re de la Colombi6re who made a similar resolution in his
tertianship retreat :l

" It seems as if it would be easy to spend any other kind
of life holily ; and the more austere, solitary and obscure
it might be and separated from all intercourse, the more
pleasing it would appear to me to be. As to what usually
terrifies nature, such as prisons, constant sickness and even
death, all this seems easy compared with this everlasting
war with self, this vigilance against the attacks of the world
and of self-love, this living death in the midst of the world.
When I think of this, I foresee that life will seem to be of
prodigious length, and that death will never come soon
enough."

This grim earnestness of minute and painstaking perfection.
Ihis concentration of enthusiasm into the narrow mould of
daily duties and rules, is characteristic of the Jesuit type
of holiness. Doubtless, in holiness, as in art or literature,
there are types, and within those types there is scope for
individuality. In our Father's house there are many
mansions, and so too in the Church Militant there are diverse
and even divergent, though not contradictory, types and
schools of sanctity, coextensive with the myriad richness of
the human mind. The catalogue of the saints includes
King Louis, the Crusader, as well as Simeon Stylites, repeating
litanies on his pillar, Joan of Arc, the warrior-maiden,
the mystic Teresa of Jesus, the verminous beggar
Benedict Joseph Labre. Is it not one of the marks of the
Church that within the unity of the faith she not only
tolerates but fosters variety and diversity ? There are many
religious orders each with its own speciality and characteristic,
many rites and ceremonies, a richness of liturgy, a mu titude
of devotions ; there is room for everyone with tolerance
and charity. It has, however, been sometimes said that the

i. — Lights in Prayer (Quarterly Series), p. 140.

TERTIANSHIP 37

spirituality of St. Ignatius is a cast-iron system, repressive
of emotions and cramping individuality. But this is merely
a secondhand perversion, a criticism based on texts rather
than on living men. The Spiritual Exercises, which have
been aptly termed a soldier's pocket-book, cannot be under
stood apart from the living voice of the master and the
spiritual experience of the exercitant. In his preliminary
annotations St. Ignatius instructs the director to "allow the
Creator to act immediately with the creature and the creature
with its Creator and Lord " ; and again, he insists that the
exercises " ought to be suited to the disposition of those
who wish to make them." Within the ambit of certain
general principles, each soul must pursue its own
individual path.

There is a saying attributed to St. Ignatius which ought
not to be forgotten : " It is very dangerous to try to force
all to reach perfection by the same road ; such a one does
not understand how manifold are the gifts of the Holy
Spirit." l It is not due to St. Ignatius, but to some of his
interpreters, that the flexibility of the Exercises, for instance
in the modes of meditation and prayer, has not always been
realised. Sometimes, too, those who write for the beginners
in the art of prayer think it necessary to enter into a rather
disconcerting apparatus of rules and details. In the last
analysis these expedients are all means to the end, which is
converse with God. The Directory ol the Exercises, com
posed by order of Fr. Claudius Aquaviva, after explaining
the methods proposed by St. Ignatius, adds :2

" It must not be thought that thereby are excluded other
methods which the Holy Spirit teaches and which men,
exercised in the spiritual life, adopt according to experience,
reason and sound doctrine, or which each one discovers by
practice to be useful for his spiritual progress. This also
applies to Ours, always with the approval or consent of the
superior or spiritual director, to whom each one should
manifest his method of prayer, all the more so if in any way
it departs from the ordinary."

i. — Selectae S. Patris nostri Ignatii Sentential 8. So also St. Francis Borgia
— P. Suau, Histoire de 6. F. de Borgia^ p. 393.
2. — Directoriuin 37. 13.

38 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

Such reasonable liberty is perfectly compatible with the
general utility of certain helps, expedients, and devices for
helping weak human nature in the spiritual combat. We
must neither slavishly imitate each practice or particularity
of every or any saint ; nor yet must we be so deluded with
a sense of our own self-sufficiency, as to reject 'summarily
those methods and practices which have been adopted and
recommended by many masters of the spiritual life.

These considerations will not be irrelevant when we come
to read Fr. Doyle's diary and retreat-notes. As we begin
with his Long Retreat, it may be useful to add here by way
of preface a few general ideas about the scope of the Exercises.
According to St. Ignatius, " the name of spiritual exercises
is applied to any method of preparing and disposing the
soul to free itself from all inordinate affections, and after
it has freed itself from them, to seek and find the will of
God concerning the ordering of life for the salvation of one's
soul."1 Thus a retreat is designed for earnest souls — only
in a very attenuated form can the Exercises be adapted to
a mission for sinners ; and it has a definite object — to find
God's will. At the beginning St. Ignatius lays down the
" first principle and foundation " which must be admitted
at the outset. It is the basis of all valuation of life : Man
was made for God, all other things for man to bring him
to God. Thus the exercitant accepts in advance and in
general the practical consequences which logically follow
from this acceptance of the Creator's sovereign rights. Then
for a whole week he must seek to eliminate all sin and disorder
and to examine his soul. In the second week the exercitant
is brought face to face with Jesus Christ. Will he follow
the invitation and enlist in the King's service ? He must
count up the cost, he must study Christ's standard, he must
at least aspire to the highest and noblest service. Then
comes the great choice, which St. Ignatius calls " the
election," and which is the culminating point of the Exercises.

i. — Annotations, § i. Reference will in future be made to the convenient
English translation of The Text of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius,
London, Burns & Gates, 1913 * . See also The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius
Loyola^ Spanish and English -with a continuous Commentary, by Joseph
Rickaby, S.J., 1915.

TERTIANSHIP 39

In ordinary retreats, of course, there is no great decisive
choice to be made,1 but there is always some " reformation
of life," some re-ordering of one's life in the light of the
great spiritual truths and scenes which have been marshalled
before the soul. God's will is known and accepted. One
more week is spent in meditating on the Passion, and a
fourth and last is devoted to the contemplation of the Risen
Master, in order to habituate the soul to pure love and to
strengthen the resolutions taken. Such, in brief essentials,
are the Exercises through which in their entirety each Jesuit
passes twice in his life, once as a novice at the outset of his
spiritual life, and finally as a priest at the outset of his
ministry. The following chapter contains the diary which
for his own guidance Fr. Doyle kept during his second and
last Long Retreat.

i. — In his Long- Retreat Fr. Doyle made his election to volunteer for the
foreign mission. See p. 53.

40 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

CHAPTER IV.
DIARY OF LONG RETREAT1

Tronchiennes, loth October, 1907.

I BEGIN the Long Retreat this evening with very varied
feelings. I feel a great desire and determination to
make this retreat as I have never made one before,
for I know this is the turning point in my life — I can never
be the same again. I want to be generous with God and
to refuse Him nothing. I do not want to say, " I will go
just so far and no farther ." Hence I feel my cowardly and
weak nature dreading this retreat, for I feel our Lord is
going to ask some big sacrifice from me, that He expects
much from me. He has been tugging at my heart for so
many years, urging me in so many ways to give myself
wholly to Him, to give all and refuse Him nothing. I dread
lest now I shall again refuse Him — perhaps it is the last
time He will ask me to do what He wants. My loving Jesus,
I will, I will be generous with You now at last. But You
must aid me, it must be Your work, I am so cowardly. Make
me see clearly Your holy will. Domine, quid me vis facere ?2

[THE FOUNDATION3.]

God had some special end in creating me, some particular
part in His great plan. I was not created as it were one
of a great number who came into the world on the same
day ; but God had a particular object in giving me life. Why
did He create me ?

How miserable has been my service of God since I entered

i. — The retreat-journal is reproduced just as it stands. A few heading^ (in
square brackets] have been inserted and some explanatory footnotes added.
Reference should, of course, be made throughout to the text of the Spiritual
Exercises.

2. — Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do? — Ads, 9, 6.

3. — St. Ignatius calls this preliminary consideration on the end of man "the
principle and foundation" (principium et fundamentum j.

LONG RETREAT 41

religion ! A bit fervent one day, the next dissipated and
careless, even since my ordination. I have fallen away
from the fervent way in which I had resolved to live hence
forth. I feel inclined to despond ; but with God's help
I will go on, trying now at last to make some little progress
in serving Him worthily. My true service of God consists
in performing the ordinary actions of the day as perfectly
and as fervently as I can, with a pure intention for love of
my Jesus. It is a mistake to think that I can only serve
Him by preaching, saving souls, etc. What would have
become of me if I had treated an earthly master as I have
served God ?

To be indifferent does not mean to desire things which
are hard to nature, but a readiness and determination to
embrace them when once the will of God is known. In
this sense I think I am indifferent about going to the Congo.
But I must force myself to be willing to accept the way of
life which God seems to be leading me to and wants me to
adopt. My God, I dread it — but " not my will but Thine."

God has a perfect right to ask from me what He wills ;
I am His servant. How then can I be free to do or not
whatever He may ask ?

I close the Fundamentum with feelings of humility and
sorrow at the thought of my past service of God. How
little reverence ! Thank God, I have still time to make up
for it. One thing alone can repair the lost years — a life
of great fervour.

FIRST WEEK.

[SIN.]

I can say with all truth that only for the great mercy
of God I should now have been in hell. I deserved it for my
years of tepidity in Clongowes. Never did the good God
show His goodness to me more than in saving me from
grievous sin. I have here a second motive of gratitude to
urge me to do all He wants.

The meditation on the barren fig-tree (5. Luke 13.) recalled

42 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

to my mind this gospel which I read in the Mass at Paray-
e-Monial. For sixteen years has Jesus been seeking fruit
from my soul, and especially in these last three years of
preparation for the priesthood. I have no excuse for He
has told me how to produce that fruit, especially by the
exact discharge of each little duty of the moment. " Spare
it for this year," Never shall I have this opportunity again
of becoming holy ; and if now I do not " dig round " this
unfruitful tree so that it bear much fruit, Jesus will surely
" cut it down " by withdrawing His graces and loving
invitations.

Truly I have ever been in the community " a running
sore " of harm and evil example. My Jesus, can I ever
make amends for all the harm I have done ? Help me
from this instant to try and do so by my fervent earnest
life. Help me to become thoroughly changed and to do
all You want of me.

This thought came to me. If Jesus wants me to go to
the Congo, I shall do more for souls there than by remaining
at home. Besides, my sacrifice will obtain grace for others
to do more good than I ever could.

" Because you have sinned, cursed be the earth in your
work." (Genesis 3. 17.) I see here the reason why my work
for souls must be unfruitful God will never bless it while
I have an affection for sin or lead a careless life.

[HELL.]

I can imagine I am a soul in hell, and God in His mercy
is saying to me, " Return to the world for this year and
on your manner of life during the year will depend your
returning to hell or not." What a life I should lead ! How
little I should think of suffering, of mortification ! How I
would rejoice in suffering ! How perfectly each moment
would be spent ! If God treated me as I deserved, I should
be in hell now. Shall I ever again have cause for grumbling
or complaining, no matter what may happen ? My habit
of constantly speaking uncharitably of others, and, in general,
faults of the tongue, seem to me the chief reason why I

LONG RETREAT 43

derive so little fruit from my Mass and spiritual duties.
Nothing dries up the fountains of grace so much as an
affection for sin

[DEATH.]

Death is the end of all things here, the end of time, of
merit, of pain and mortification, of a hard life. It is the
commencement of an eternal life of happiness and joy. " God
will wipe away all tears from their eyes." (Apoc. 21, 4.) In
this light, life is short indeed and penance sweet. I thought
if I knew I had only one year to live, how fervently I would
spend it, how each moment would be utilised. Yet I know
well I may not live a week more — do I really believe this ?

[JUDGEMENT.]

Oct. i6th. Meditating on the Particular Judgement, God
gave me great light. I realised that I should have to give
an exact account of every action of my life and for every
instant of time. To take only my seventeen years of religious
life, what account could I give of the 6,000 hours of
meditation, 7,000 Masses, 12,000 examinations of conscience,
etc. ? Then my time — how have I spent every moment ?
I resolved not to let a day more pass without seriously trying
to reform my life in the manner in which I perform my
ordinary daily duties. For years I have been " going to
begin," and from time to time made some slight efforts at
improvement. But now, dear Jesus, let this change be the
work of Thy right hand.

To perform each action well I will try and do them : (a)
with a pure intention often renewed, (b) attente — earnestly,
punctually exactly, (c) devote — with great fervour.

How little I think of committing venial sin, and how
soon I forget I have done so ! Yet God hates nothing more
than even the shadow of sin, nothing does more harm to
my spiritual progress and hinders any real advance in
holiness. My God, give me an intense hatred and dread
and horror of the smallest sin. I want to please You and

44 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

love You and serve You as I have never done before. Let
me begin by stamping out all sin in my soul.

We could not take pleasure in living in the company of
one whose body is one running, festering sore ; neither can
God draw us close to Himself, caress and love us, if our souls
are covered with venial sin, more loathsome and horrible
in His eyes than the most foul disease. To avoid mortal
sin I must carefully guard against deliberate venial sin, so
to avoid venial sin I must fly from the shadow of imperfection
in my actions. How often in the past have I done things
when I did not know if they were sins or only deliberate
imperfections — and how little I cared, my God !

[THE PRODIGAL SON1.]

One of the obstacles to my leading a fervent life is the
thought of what others may think. I would often wish to
do some act of mortification, but I am prevented because
I know others will see it. Again, I desire to keep certain
rules which I have often broken (e.g. Latin conversation),
but a false shame, a fear of what others may say, stops me.-
I know this is a foolish, mean and small spirit ; but it is
alas ! too true in my case. I must pray to overcome it
and make some generous acts against this false shame
and pride.

For fifteen years has Jesus been waiting for me to return
to Him, to return to the fervour of my first year of religious
life. During that time how many pressing and loving
invitations has He not given me ? What lights and
inspirations, remorse of conscience, and how many good
resolves which were never carried into effect. O my God,
I feel now as if I cannot resist You longer. Your infinite
patience and desire to bring me to You has broken the ice
of my cold heart " I will arise and go " to You, humbled
and sorrowful, and for the rest of my life give You of my
very best. Help me, sweet Jesus, by Your grace, for I am
weak and cowardly.

i. — A meditation on God's mercy is usually added at the end of the First
Week of the Exercises.

2. — " Let all . . . speak Latin." (Rules uf Scholastics, 10.)

LONG RETREAT 45

FRUIT OF FIRST WEEK.

I realise in a way I never did before that God created
me for His service, that He has a strict right that I should
serve Him perfectly, and that every moment of my life is
His and given to me for the one end of praising and serving
Him. I recalled with horror how often I have wandered
from this my end, what an appalling amount of time I have
wasted, and how few of my actions were done for God, or
worthy of being offered to Him. I see what I should have
been and what I am. But the thought of Jesus waiting
and eagerly looking out for me, the prodigal, during fifteen
years, has filled me with hope and confidence and hew resolve
to turn to my dearest Jesus and give Him all He asks.

I have begun to try to perform each little action with
great fervour and exactness, having as my aim to get back
the fervour of my first year's novitiate.

Domine, quid me vis facer e P1 I am ready to do Your
will, no matter how hard it may seem to me.

17 October, 1907. Amen.

SECOND WEEK.

18 Oct., 1907.

[ON THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.]

I seemed at prayer to hear Jesus asking me if I were willing
to do all He would ask of me. I feel much less fear than in
the first week, of what this may be, and greater courage and
desire even for sacrifices.

This thought came to me : I am not to take the lives of
others in the house as the standard of my own, what may
be lawful for them is not for me ; their life is most pleasing
to God, such a life for me would not be so ; God wants some
thing higher, nobler, more generous from me, and for this
will offer me special graces.

i. — Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do? — Acts 9, 6.

46 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

Meditating on the Kingdom of Christ, the thought suddenly
came to me to make this offering : 0 aeterne Domine . . .
dummodo sit maius servitium Tuum et laus Tua . . . et
si Maiestas Tua sanctissima voluerit me eligere ac recipere ad
talem vitam et statum, me Tibi offero pro Missione Congolensi.
Fiat voluntas Tua. Amen x

I feel that I could go through fire and water to serve such
a man as Napoleon, that no sacrifice he could ask would be
too hard. What would the army think of me if Napoleon
said, " I want you to do so and so," and I replied, " But,
your Majesty, I am very sensitive to cold, I want to have
a sleep in the afternoon, to rest when I am tired, and I really
could not do without plenty of good things to eat ! " —
would I not deserve to have my uniform torn from me and
be driven from the army, not even allowed to serve in the
ranks ? How do I serve Jesus my King ? What kind of
service ? generous or making conditions ? in easy things
but not in hard ones ? What have I done for Jesus ? What
am I doing for Jesus ? What shall I do for Jesus ?

[THE NATIVITY.]

What impressed me most in the meditiation on the Nativity
was the thought that Jesus could have been born in wealth
and luxury, or at least with the ordinary comforts of life,
, but He chose all that was hard, unpleasant and uncomfortable.
This He did for me, to show me the life I must lead
jor Him. If I want to be with Christ, I must lead the life
of Christ, and in that life there was little of what was pleasing
to nature. I think I have been following Christ, yet how
pleasant and comfortable my life has always been — ever
avoiding cold, hunger, hard work, disagreeable things,
humiliations, etc. My Jesus, You are speaking to my heart
now. I cannot mistake Your voice or hide from myself
what You want from me and what my future life should
be. Help me for I am weak and cowardly.

i. — "O eternal Lord . . . provided it be for Thy greater service and
praise . . . and if Thy most Holy Majesty be pleased to choose and receive
me for such a life and state," (these words are taken from St. Ignatius's
meditation on the Kingdom of Christ), I offer myself to Thee for the Congo
Mission. Thy will be done. Amen.

LONG RETREAT 47

By entering religion and taking my vows I have given
myself over absolutely to God and His service. He, there
fore, has a right to be served in the way He wishes. If then
He asks me to enter on a hard, mortified life and spend
myself working for Him, how can I resist His will and desire ?
" Oh my God, make me a saint, and I consent to suffer all
You ask for the rest of my life." What is God asking from
me now ? Shall I go back on that offering ?

[THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT.]

Great as was the poverty of Jesus in the cave at Bethlehem,
it was nothing compared to His destitution during the Flight
into Egypt. Again this was voluntary and chosen and
borne propter me1.

I contrast the obedience of St. Joseph with my obedience.
His so prompt, unquestioning, uncomplaining, perfect ; mine
given so grudgingly, perhaps exterior, but not interior con
formity with the will of the Superior. I realise my faults
in this matter, and for the future will try to practise the most
perfect obedience, even and especially in little things. " The
obedient man will speak of victory." (Proverbs 21, 28.)

[THE HIDDEN LIFE.]

During the reflection on the Hidden Life I got a light
that here was something in which I could easily imitate
our Lord and make my life resemble His. I felt a strong
impulse to resolve to take up as one of the chief objects of
my life the exact and thorough performance of each duty,
trying to do it as Jesus would have done, with the same
pure intention, exquisite exactness and fervour. To copy in
all my actions — walking, eating, praying — Jesus, my model
in the little house of Nazareth. This light was sudden, clear
and strong. To do this perfectly will require constant,
unflagging fervour. Will not this be part of my " hard
life " ? ^___

i. — For my sake.

48 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

I should examine all my actions, taking Jesus as my model
and example. What a vast difference between my prayer
and His ; between my use of time, my way of speaking,
walking, dealing with others, etc., and that of the child
Jesus ! If I could only keep Him before my eyes always,
my life would be far different from what it has been.

Each fresh meditation on the life of our Lord impresses
on me more and more the necessity of conforming my life
to His in every detail, if I wish to please Him and become
holy. To do something great and heroic may never come,
but I can make my life heroic by faithfully and daily putting
my best effort into each duty as it comes round. It seems
to me I have failed to keep my resolutions because I have
not acted from the motive of the love of God. Mortification,
prayer, hard work, become sweet when done for the love
of Jesus.

[THE TWO STANDARDS.]

My victory over myself, my inclinations, is a victory won
for the cause of Jesus. I have been a deserter to the camp
of Satan, a traitor ; but now my King has pardoned me
and received me back. How am I going to show my gratitude
and make up for the past which I cannot recall — the time
lost, duties omitted or done without love or fervour, little
sacrifices refused, my many, many sins ? Shall I not be
busy at every hour, fighting for my King, gaining victory
after victory over the enemy, over myself ? My Jesus, help
me now to work for You, to slave for You, to fight for You.
and then to die for You !

[THE THREE CLASSES OF MEN.]

It is easy for me to test my love for Jesus. Do I love
what He loved and came down from heaven to find — suffering,
humiliation, contempt, want of all things, inconveniences,
hunger, weariness, cold ? The more I seek for and embrace
these things, the nearer am I drawing to Jesus and the deeper
is my love for Him. While praying for light to know what

LONG RETREAT 49

God wants from me in the matter of mortifying my appetite,
a voice seemed to say : " There are other things besides
food in which you can be generous with Me, other hard things
which I want you to do." I thought of all the secret self
denial contained in constant hard work, not giving up when
a bit tired, not yielding to desire for sleep, not running off
to bed if a bit unwell, bearing little sufferings without relief,
cold and heat without complaint, and, above all, the constant
never-ending mortification to do each action perfectly. This
light has given me a good deal of consolation, for I see I
can do much for Jesus that is hard without being singular'
or departing from common life.

It seems to me that Jesus is asking from me a life in which
I am to make war upon " comfortableness " as far as possible,
a life without comfort, even that which is allowed by
the rule.

The example of men of the Third Class in the world should
shame me. What determination, what prolonged effort,
what deadly earnestness, in the man who has determined
to succeed in his profession ! No sacrifice is too great for
him, he wants to succeed, he will succeed. My desire, so
far, to be a saint is only the desire of the man of the First
Class. It gratifies my pride, but I make no real progress
in perfection — I do not really will it.

The love of Jesus makes the impossible easy and sweet.

[THE THREE DEGREES OF HUMILITY.]

I have now reached the great meditation, the crucial point ,
of the retreat. God has been very good to me in enlightening
my mind to see His will and in filling my heart with a most
ardent desire to do it — cost what it may. Jesus, dear Jesus,
I want to please You, to do exactly what You want of me,
to give all generously this time without any reserve, and
never to go back on my resolution. In this spirit I made
the midnight meditation on October 25th, the Feast of
B. Margaret Mary. I saw clearly what I knew years ago
but would not admit : that God is asking from me the

50 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

practice of the Third Degree1 in all its perfection as far as
I am capable. I cannot deny it or shut my eyes to this
truth any longer. Should I not be grateful to the good
God for choosing me for such a life, since it will be all the
work of His grace and not my own doing ? God wants
me to put perfection — sanctity — before me and to "go
straight " for that, for holiness. He wants me not to be
content with the ordinary good life of the average religious,
but to aim at something higher, nobler, more worthy of
Him. He wants me to make ceaseless war on myself, my
passions, inclinations, habits ; to smash and break down
my own will, to mortify it in all things so that it may be
free for His grace to act upon ; in a word, to aim at the
perfection of the Third Degree and all that that means, not
for one day or month or a year, but for the rest of my life,
faithfully, unceasingly, constantly, without rest or inter
mission. To do this I must strive to cut away all comfort
in my life, choose that which is " hard," go against my
natural inclination, and give up the easy self-indulgent life
I have hitherto led. The motive for this is the immense,
deep, real love of the Heart of Jesus for me, His example
which He wants me to follow, for He chose want of all things,
suffering and a hard comfortless life, and by doing the same
I imitate Him and become more and more like to Him. Can
I do this for five, ten, twenty years — lead a crucified life
so long ? Jesus does not ask that, but only that I do so
for this day so quickly passed and with it the recollection
of the little suffering and mortifications endured — once over,
all is over, but the eternal reward remains.

My Jesus, I feel that at last You have conquered, Your
love has conquered ; and last night, kneeling before the
image of Your Sacred Heart, I promised You to begin this
new life, to begin at last to serve You as You urged me to
do during the past sixteen years. I made my promise,
knowing well my weakness, but trusting in Your all-powerful
grace to do what seems almost impossible to my cowardly

i. — " The third degree is the most perfect humility ; when. . . the better
to imitate Christ our Lord and to become actually more like to Him, I desire
and choose poverty with Christ poor rather than riches, contempt with Christ
contemned rather than honours. . . . " — Spiritual Exercises, p. 53.

LONG RETREAT 51

nature. Ego dixi : nunc coepi.1 I promise You, sweet
Jesus, to serve You perfectly with all the fervour of my
soul, aiming at the Third Degree in its perfection. I make
this offering through the hands of B. Margaret Mary.
Amen.

Tronchiennes, Oct. 25th, 1907.
Feast of B. Margaret Mary.

What account shall I give of this resolution when I stand
before my God for judgement ?

PRACTICE OF THE THIRD DEGREE.

I. Accepto. I will receive with joy all unpleasant things
which I must bear : (a) pain, sickness, heat, cold, food ;
(b) house, employment, rules, customs ; (c) trials of religious
h'fe, companions ; (d) reprimands, humiliations ; (e) anything
which is a cross.

II. Volo et Desidero. I will wish and desire that these
things may happen to me, that so I may resemble my Jesus
more.

III. Eligo. With all my might I will strive every day
agerc contra in omnibus :2 (a) against my faults ; (b) against
my own will ; (c) against my ease and comfort ; (d) against
the desires of the body ; (e) against my habit and inclination
of performing my duties negligently and without fervour.

Finis

The reformation of one's life must be the work of every
day, I should take each rule and duty, think how Jesus
acted, or would have done, and contrast my conduct
with His.

I think it better not to make any definite resolutions about
mortification, such as " I will never do so-and-so." I know
how such resolutions have fared But I am determined to
keep up a constant war against myself, now in one matter

i. — I said : Now have I begun. — Psalm 76, n.
2. — To act against (myself) in all things.

52 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

and now in another, varying the kinds of mortification as
much as possible, but trying to do ten little acts each day.

We have a strict right to the love of God, because our
vocation is to follow Him ; we cannot do this unless we
love Him. Jesus will assuredly give me a sensible love of
Him, if I only ask. I must ask, seek, and knock daily
and hourly.

Fr. Petit told me that the spirit of the Third Degree is
not so much the practice of austerities as the denial of one's
will and judgement and perfect abnegation of self and
humility. This is the spirit of our rules which are simply
the Third Degree.

Have I a real hunger and thirst for the love and the service
of Jesus ? Is it growing ?

If I do not begin to serve God as I ought now, when shall
I do so ? shall I ever ? This retreat is a time of special
grace, and if my cooperation is wanting, Jesus may pass
by and not return. The devil has made me put off my
thorough conversion to God for seventeen years, making
me content myself with the resolution of " later on really
beginning in earnest and becoming a saint." What might
not have been done in that time !

The reason, said Fr Petit, why we find our life so hard,
mortification difficult, and why we are inclined to avoid
all that we dislike, is because we have no real love for Jesus.

The Gospel says, Erat autem diebus jlocens in Templo.1
How often, and for how long, am I in the chapel ? Is the
chapel the place where people know I am to be found ?
What a difference it would make in my visits, if only I
realised the real corporal presence of Jesus in the Tabernacle.
This is a grace I must earnesly ask for.

Erat pernoctans in oratione Dei.2 I say I am anxious to
imitate the life of Jesus, here is something in which I can
do so. Would it not be possible (afterwards) to spend an
hour at night in the chapel after examen ?

i. — In the daytime He was teaching in the Temple. — S. Luke 21, 37.
2. — He passed the whole night in the prayer of God. — S. Luke 6, 12.

LONG RETREAT 53

FRUIT OF THE SECOND WEEK.

A great desire to know our Lord better, His attractive
character, His personal love for me, the resolve to read
the life of Christ and study the Gospels.

I feel also a longing to love Jesus passionately, to try
my very best to please Him, and to do all I think will please
Him. I see nothing will be dearer to Him than my sancti-
fication, chiefly attained by the perfection with which I
perform even the smallest action. "All for love of Jesus."

i Nov., 1907.

THE ELECTION.
REASONS AGAINST.

(1) I am not certain of the will of God.

(2) I should like to remain for some years in Ireland and
work for souls.

(3) Should I not do more good by remaining in Ireland
instead of burying myself among a few blacks whose language
I do not know ?

(4) I may have a long useful life at home ; on the mission
probably a very short one.

REASONS FOR.

(1) The almost certain conviction that I have a real
vocation for the foreign mission.

(2) This thought has been in my mind for over twenty
years and the thought of it has given me great pleasure
and consolation.

(3) My desire, even as a boy, to be a martyr.

(4) The letter I wrote as a novice.1

i. — Presumably he volunteered for the foreign mission.

54 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J

(5) The feeling that, if I do not offer myself, I certainly
shall not please God.

(6) The attraction I feel for a life of real privation and
suffering.

(7) This is much stronger since the retreat, in order to be
more like Jesus.

(8) In the spirit of the Third Degree I should make this
sacrifice.

(9) The hardship of the life, a great help to holiness.

(10) The attraction the life of St. Peter Claver has always
had for me, my desire to imitate him.

(n) The souls I shall be able to save, and who otherwise
would never see heaven.

(12) As an English-speaking priest I may be of help to
the missionaries.

(13) I feel quite content that I was doing God's will when
I resolved two years ago to offer myself for the foreign
mission.

A. M. D. o.

MY ELECTION.

To-day the First Friday of November, the Feast of All
Saints, I made my election about offering myself for the
Congo Mission. During the retreat I have been praying
and thinking over this, asking for light to know God's holy
will which alone I seek. The reasons for offering myself
are overwhelming, but one thought troubled and upset me —
I see in this that it came from the evil one. " By remaining
in Ireland and working zealously for many years could I
not do far more for God's glory than by going on the mission
where almost certainly I shall not live long ? "

(1) I got light to see that this was only a delusion of
sell-love, seeking, under pretext of good, a life gratifying to
human nature and my pride.

(2) Would this life be pleasing to God, if He wanted me
to work for Him among the negroes ?

(3) God is able to open up a vast field for my zeal if He
wishes it, no matter where I may be.

LONG &ETREAT 55

(4) What I lose by rejecting the glorious opportunity of
the foreign mission to become like to Jesus, the help to
sanctity, the possibility of martyrdom.

(5) Lastly I simply felt I was powerless to refuse Jesus
this sacrifice which He has been asking for over twenty
years. I could not refuse and live and die in peace. How
after such clear lights and inspirations could I face Jesus
at my judgement, knowing I did not do what He wanted ?

During Benediction I resolved to confirm the resolution
already made at Milltown : to offer my life for the Congo
mission. In doing so I choose nothing myself but place
myself without reserve in the hands of my Superiors that
they may declare God's holy will to me. An interior voice
seemed to say, " You will never regret this resolution and
offering."

I offered my resolution to the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus,
praying Him to accept me for this life. Since then my soul
has been filled with joy and consolation. I am quite happy
and content, for I feel God has given me grace to do what
He wants.

Feast of All Saints, 1907.

THIRD WEEK.

2 Nov., 1907.

I was greatly struck and helped yesterday by these words
of the " Imitation " : Fill, sine me tecum agere quod volo
ego scio quid expediat tibi.1 They gave me courage to place
myself without reserve in God's hands. How happy I feel
now that I have done so and made my sacrifice.

[THE PASSION.]

All my life my study has been to avoid suffering as much
as possible, to make my life a comfortable one How unlike
my Jesus I have been, who sought to suffer on every occasion
for me, for me. I should be glad when pain comes and
welcome it, because it makes me more like Jesus.

i. — " My child, let Me do with you what I will; I know what is good for
you." — Imitation of Christ iii. 17, i. A favourite quotation of Fr. Doyle's.

56 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

' During His Passion our Lord was bound and dragged
from place to place. I have hourly opportunities of imitating
Him by going cheerfully to the duty of the moment —
recreation when I want to be quiet, a walk when I would
rather stay in my room, some unpleasant duty I did not
expect, a call of charity which means great inconvenience
for myself.

My denial of Jesus has been baser than that of Peter, for
I have refused to listen to His voice calling me back for
fifteen years. But Jesus has won my heart in this retreat
by His patient look of love. God grant my repentance may
in some degree be like St. Peter's. I could indeed weep
bitterly for the wasted sinful past in the Society, the time
I have squandered, the little good done, and the awful amount
of harm by my bad example in every house in which I have
been. What might I not have done for Jesus ! What a
saint I might have been now ! Dear Jesus, You forgave
St. Peter, forgive me also for / will serve You now.

At the community Mass this morning / again felt an over
powering desire to become a saint. It came suddenly filling
my soul with consolation. Surely God has an object in
inspiring me so often with this desire and has great graces
for me if I will only cooperate with Him.

Reflecting on this inspiration afterwards, I saw more
clearly that the chief thing God wants from me at present
is an extraordinary and exquisite perfection in every little
thing I do, even the odd Hail Marys of the day ; that each
day there must be some improvement in the fervour, the
purity of intention, the exactness with which I do things,
that in this will chiefly lie my sanctification as it sanctified
St. John Berchmans. I see here a vast field for work and an
endless service of mortification. To keep faithfully to this
resolve will require heroism, so that day after day I may not
flag in the fervour of my service of the good God.

The fruit of the Third Week, says Fr. Petit, is great
compassion and increase of fortitude. To " suffer with "
Jesus, to long for sufferings, must be my aim and prayer.
Since my " Promise " I have been doing ten acts of
self-denial — why not try to make it thirty a day ? I have

LONG RETREAT 57

so much to atone for, so much time wasted in the past, so
little of life left. Ceaseless war on your comfort, no rest
now, eternity is long enough.

[THE SCOURGING.]

During all these long years Jesus has been standing bound
at the pillar, while I have cruelly scourged Him by my
ingratitude and neglect of my vocation. Each action
carelessly done, the hours spent in sleep, each moment
wasted, have been so many stripes on my Saviour's bleeding
body. He has been bearing all this to save me from His
Father's just anger. And all the while I have heard His
gentle voice, " My child, will you not love Me ? I want
your heart. I want you to strive and become a saint, to
be generous with Me and refuse Me nothing." Can I now
turn away again as before and refuse to listen ?

With Jesus naked and shivering with bitter cold at the
pillar, I will try joyfully to bear the effects of cold. With
Jesus covered with wounds, I, too, will try to endure little
sufferings without relief.

[CALVARY.]

The greatest thirst of Jesus on the Cross was his thirst
for souls. He saw then the graces and inspirations He would
give me to save souls for Him. In what way shall I
correspond and console my Saviour ?

The thought has been very much in my mind during this
week that Jesus asks from me the sacrifice of all the pleasures
of the world — such as villa,1 plays, concerts, football-matches,
cinematograph, etc, ; that I am to seek my recreation and
find my pleasure in Him alone. Life is indeed too short
now for me to waste a moment in such things. May God
give me a great disgust for all these things in which formerly
I took such delight !

This morning I had a great struggle not to sleep. Then
God rewarded me with much light and generous resolve. I

i. — Summer \acation.

58 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLEl S.J.

was meditating on my desire to die a martyr's death for
Jesus, and then asked myself if I was really in earnest, why
did I not begin to die to myself, to die to my own will, the
inclinations and desires of my lower nature. I wish to die
a martyr's death — but am I willing to live a martyr's life ?
To live a crucified life ' seeking in all things my constant
mortification ' P1

A COMPACT WITH JESUS.

" My God, I promise You, kneeling before the image of
Your Sacred Heart, that I will do my best to lead a martyr's
life by constantly denying my will and doing all that I think
will please You, if You in return will grant me the grace
of martyrdom."

A life of martyrdom is to be the price of a martyr's crown

FRUIT OF THE THIRD WEEK.

The thought that Jesus has suffered so much for me to
atone for my sins and past careless life in religion, has filled
me with a great desire to love Him in return with all my
heart, I feel, too, a growing hunger and thirst for suffering
and mortification, because it makes me more like to my
suffering Jesus, suffering all with joy for me

Every day has deepened my shame, sorrow and hatred
for my negligent tepid life since I entered the Society, and
strengthened my resolve and desire to make amends by a
life of great fervour. I feel my past sinful life will be a spur
for me to aim at great holiness.

i. — Summarium Constitutionum S.J., 12.

LONG RETREAT 59

FOURTH WEEK.

10 Nov., 1907.

The reason I find it so hard to love God, why I have so
little affection for Him, is because of my attachment to venial
sin and my constant deliberate imperfections. I have, as
it were, been trying to run with an immense weight round
my feet ; I have tried to reach the unitive way without
passing through the purgative, to jump to the top of the
ladder without climbing up the steps ; so that after all
these years I am still as barren of real love of God as when
first I entered religion. No, I must work earnestly now
to remove the very shadow of sin from my life, then to imitate
the humble suffering life of Jesus and thus win His love.

I look upon it as a great grace that in spite of my tepid
life Jesus has given me an ardent desire to love Him. I long
eagerly to love my Jesus passionately, with an intense ardent
love such as the saints had ; and yet I remain cold and
indifferent with little zeal for His glory.

[EMMAUS.]

From the Tabernacle Jesus seems to say, " Stay with Me
for it is towards evening and the day is now far spent "
This should urge me to come to visit Him often.

If my resurrection is a real one and is to produce fruit,
it must be external, so that all may see I am not the same
man, that my life is changed in Christ.

[APPARITION BY THE LAKESIDE.]

Lord, You know I love You less than any others, but
I long and desire to love You more than all the rest. Take
my heart, dear Lord, and hide it in Your own, that so I may
only love what You love and desire what You desire. May

i. — 5. Luke 24. 29.

6o FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ

I find no pleasure in the things of this world, its pleasures
and amusement ; but may my one delight be in thinking
of You, working for You, loving You* and staying in Your
sweet presence before the Tabernacle. Why do You want
my love, dear Jesus, and why have You left me no rest
all these years till I gave You at last my poor heart to love
You, and You alone ? This ceaseless pleading for my love
fills me with hope and confidence that, sinful as my life has
been in the past, You have forgiven and forgotten it all.
Thanks a million times, dearest Jesus, for all Your
goodness. I will love and serve You now till death.

13 Nov., igoy.1 Amen

REFLECTIONS ON THE RETREAT.

At the close of the retreat my soul is full of many
emotions. God has been more than good to me, has given
me great lights and wonderful graces. During the whole
month my eyes have been opening more and more to the
disorder of my past life. I have been simply amazed and
astounded how I could possibly have lived the life I did,
especially my years in college, such abuse of grace, such
awful waste of time, neglect of opportunities of learning, of
becoming holy, and above all the harm this careless tepid
life has done others. I have realised how little I thought
about committing sin and; far less, of deliberate breaches
of rule. Now, through God's great mercy, I feel an intense
hatred of such a life, and as if it would be impossible ever
again to live so. I feel that indeed the retreat has worked
a marvellous change in me. I feel I am not the same in
my views, sentiments, and way of looking at things, that I
am a different man. I have never felt as I do now after
any other retreat before God must indeed have poured His
grace abundantly into my soul, for it seems to me that a

i. — There is here inserted a table with two numbers (each about 500)
corresponding- to the morning and evening of each day of retreat. This
evidently records the number of aspirations made.

. LONG RETREAT 6r

deep lasting impression has been made, which I trust will
ever remain. My soul is in great peace. I feel as if at last
I have given God all He wanted from me during so many
years by making the resolutions which I have made ; that
.1 could now die content, for at last I have really begun to
try and serve the good God with all my heart. I feel also
a great longing to love Jesus very, very much, to draw very
close to His Sacred Heart, and to be ever united to Him,
always thinking of Him and praying. I long ardently to
do something now to make up for my neglect in the past —
to give myself heart and soul to the service of Cod, to toil
for Him, to wear myself out for Him. I wish to be able
never to seek rest or amusement outside of what obedience
imposes, so that every moment may be spent for Jesus. I
have not a moment to lose, I cannot afford to refuse Him a
single sacrifice if I wish to do anything for Jesus and become
a saint before I die. If I go to the Congo, I certainly shall
not live long. In any case can I promise myself even one
day more ? Finis venit.1 I must try to look upon this
day as my last on earth and do all I can and surfer all I can
for these few hours. It is not a question of keeping up
full steam for years, but only for to-day.

If I am faithful to the resolution of " doing all things
perfectly," I shall effectually cut away the numerous faults
in all my actions. By working hard at the Third Degree
I shall best correct those things to which my attention has
been drawn. I know all this is going to cost me much, that
I shall have a fierce battle to fight with the devil and myself.
But I begin with great hope and confidence, for since Jesus
has inspired me to make these resolutions and urged me on
till I did so, His grace will not be wanting to aid me at
every step.

In the name of God, then, I enter upon the Narrow Path
which leads to sanctity, walking bravely on in imitation
of my Jesus Who is by my side carrying His cross. To
imitate Him »and make my life resemble His in some small
degree, will be my life's work, that so I may be worthy to
die for Him.

i. — The end is come. — Ezech. 7. 2.

62 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE. S.J.

Thank You, O my God, for all the graces of this retreat,
above all for bringing me at last to Your sacred feet. Grant
me grace to keep these resolutions and never to forget my
determination to strive might and main to become a saint.

13 Nov., 1907.

Hoc unusquisque persuasion habeat : tantum se in studiis
spiritualibus promoturum esse, quantum ab amore sui ipsius
et proprii commodi affectione sese abstraxerit. — St. Ignatius.1

A. M. D. G.

RESOLUTIONS OF LONG RETREAT, 1907.

1. I must remember that I have offered myself for the
Congo. I may be sent now at any moment, and then I
shall have only a very short time to live.

2. Is my life all that the life of a future missioner, and
perhaps martyr, should be ?

3. My ideal : the Third Degree of Humility in all its
perfection.

4. My great devotion : the Sacred Heart in the Blessed
Eucharist.

5. I will say as much of my Office as I can in the chapel,

6. Each day, if possible, 1,000 ejaculations, but never
less than 500.

7. Each day 30 little acts of mortification, if I can, but
always never less than 15.

8. The object of my life to be close union with and intense
love of God. To acquire this I will (a) fly from the shadow
of sin, never deliberately break a rule, custom or regulation ;
(b) do each little action purely for the love of Jesus, with
exquisite exactness, fervour and devotedness ; (c) beg
constantly and earnestly for a great increase of love.

i. — " Let each be convinced that he will make progress in all spiritual
matters in proportion as he has divested himself of his own self-love, his own
will and self-interest." — Spiritual Exercises (end of second week) p. 60.
Compare the Imitation of Christ (i. 25, 10) : Tantum fro/fries quantum tibi
ipsi vim intuleris.

LONG RETREAT 63

9. I will try and bear little sufferings without seeking
relief.

10. Never to give way to sleep during the day.

11. Great attention to the Rules of Modesty, especially
custody of the eyes.

12. To read these resolutions once a week.

Motto : ''Agere contra " — all for the love of Jesus and
to win His love.

Feast of St. Stanislaus, 1907.

64 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S J.

CHAPTER V.
APOSTOLATE

(l.) MISSIONS AND RETREATS.

AT the end of his tertianship Fr. Doyle was once more
placed on the teaching staff of Belvedere College. Next
year (1909) he was appointed Minister at Belvedere.
In 1910 he was transferred to the mission staff of which he
remained an active member until November, 1915. These
were years of incessant work which resulted in an abundant
harvest of souls. Altogether (from 1908 to 1915) Fr Doyle
gave 152 missions and retreats. He had many of the natural
gifts which go to make a successful missioner : an impressive
appearance, a clear vibrant voice, considerable fluency, great
earnestness, painstaking preparation and indomitable energy.
Outside the pulpit he was even more successful. His breadth
of view and his patient sympathy made him an ideal con
fessor, and during missions his confessional was always
besieged. As a " shimmer " and beater-up of hard cases
he had few equals. None could withstand his winning and
persuasive ways ; his childlike directness and self-sacrificing
kindness were irresistible. Grace seemed to go out from
him. He once wrote in a confidential letter :

" I have not met a single refusal to come to the mission
or to confession so far during my missionary career. Why
should there be one because Jesus for some mysterious
reason seems 'to delight in using perhaps the most wretched
of all His priests as the channel of His grace ? When I go
to see a hard hopeless case, I cannot describe what happens
exactly, but I seem to be able to lift up my heart like a cup
and pour grace and the love of God upon that poor soul.
I can see the result instantly, almost like the melting of
snow."

It would almost seem as if the exerting of spiritual influence
were a sensible phenomenon to the writer. He had plenty

/ MISSIONS AND RETREATS 65

of experience, for he loved to hunt out the most hardened
and neglected sinners and to bring them back with him to
the church for confession. In one city he used during his
mission to go down to the quays at midnight to meet ships
due to arrive, and to induce the crews to promise attendance
or even to go to confession at once. And next morning he
was out before six o'clock on the same apostolic errand,
waylaying factory girls and mill-hands going to work.

A consuming zeal for souls was the source of this untiring
energy and the secret of his influence. " My intense desire
and longing," he once wrote, "is to make others love Jesus
and to draw them to His Sacred Heart. Recently at Mass
I have found myself at the Dominus Vobiscum opening my
arms wide with the intention of embracing every soul present
and drawing them in spite of themselves into that Heart
which longs for their love. ' Compel them to come in/
Jesus said. Yes, compel them to dive into that abyss of
love. Sometimes, I might say nearly always, when speaking
to people I am seized with an extraordinary desire to draw
their hearts to God. I could go down on my knees before
them and beg them to be pure and holy, so strong do I feel
the longing of Jesus for sanctity in everyone, and since I
may not do this, I try to do what I find hard to describe
in words — to pour out of my heart any grace or love of God
there may be in it, and then with all the force of my will
to draw their hearts into that of Jesus."

In his mission- work he relied greatly on prayers, for which
he was constantly appealing to convents and schools.
"Ammunition for the Missions " he called such spiritual
help. " Pray for a hard case here," "A little prayer for
a big fish of forty years whom I hope to land to-morrow,"
" Get all the prayers you can, even an aspiration may save
a soul " —these and suchlike requests occur constantly in ,
his letters. " I am going to say a special Mass in future."
he wrote (3Oth April, 1911), "on the first Sunday of each
month for all those who pray for my missions and retreats^
I shall be grateful if you would kindly make this known."1

i. — During n mission in Cork he offered prizes in a school to the children
who prayed most, and gave them to the little ones himself at the close of the

mission.

66 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ

And again on the Feast of Corpus Christi, 1913 — he had been
hearing confessions on the day before from half-past five
in -the morning until eleven at night : "I wish nuns could
know the miracles their prayers work during missions in the
hearts of poor sinners years away from God ; it would make
them do so much more." " I think," he once said, " there
are too many workers in most religious houses, but not half
enough toilers on their knees."1

He did not confine himself to asking the prayers of others,
he also toiled on his own knees. During a mission or retreat
he sought to increase and intensify his own prayer instead
of curtailing it. ' The more I have to do," he once wrote,
" the greater I feel the need of prayer, so that between the
two the poor sleep has a bad time." After an arduous
day's work in pulpit and confessional he would often spend
a good part of the night before the Tabernacle, cutting his
sleep down to three or four hours. Thus during a mission
in Drogheda, the curate observed that Fr. Doyle on emerging
from his confessional at eleven o'clock at night used to retire
to the little oratory and remain on his knees before the
Blessed Sacrament until the clock struck two ; yet he was
always up and out of the house before any one else was
astir. And in addition to all this, there was continuous
and severe penance. Few have believed so literally that
the devil is cast out only by prayer and fasting. Here is
one precious revelation of his nocturnal rest ; it was after
a hard day's work during a mission in Glasgow, and in
addition he was suffering from a cold :

" I made the Holy Hour prostrate on the marble flags,
and by moving from time to time I continued to get the
full benefit of the cold. Then for two hours I made the
Stations of the Cross, standing, kneeling, and prostrate,

i.— Compare the saying1 of the Little Flower in her Autobiography: "O Mother,
how beautiful is our vocation ! It is for us on Carmel to preserve the salt of the
earth. We offer our prayers and our sacrifices for the Lord's apostles ; we
must ourselves be their apostles, while by their words and their examples they
are evangelising the souls of our brothers." — Sceur Therese . . . Histoire d' une
fane> P- 955 Eng. trans. (The Little Flower} p. 96. Also Soeur Gertrude-
Marie (Lsg'ueu, Une mystique de nos jours, 1910, p. 348 — a favourite book of
Fr. Doyle's) : " Once more Jesus made me change my day's intentions :
' To-day you will pray for all the souls who will go to confession and prepare
for their Easter duty to-morrow [Palm Sunday, 1907]. You will also pray for
the confessors.' "

MISSIONS AND RETREATS 67

taking fourteen strokes of the discipline at each Station.
For the rest of the night I remained kneeling before the
Tabernacle, at intervals with arms outstretched, till I could
bear the agony of this no longer."

The man who acted thus was no sickly or morbid
solitary. He was a healthy, good-humoured, broad-minded,

hard-working missioner, " with no d nonsense about him,"

as one penitent expressed it. But in his soul there were
chords attuned to finer spiritual symphonies than our dull
wits can discern. He knew, not by theoretic reasoning but
by intuition and experience, that there is a mysterious law
governing the movements of spiritual energy, a divine
economy in the operations of grace. Souls are won by
prayer and suffering ; God wishes the deficit of sin to be
filled up with the overflow of chosen souls. Men sometimes
reason about this and call it learned names. Fr. Doyle
lived it. He gave to his missions not only lip-service,
but the devotion of his whole being. Like his divine
Master he could say, " For them do I sanctify myself."
(S. John 17. 19.) He strove to help others out of the spon
taneous redundancy of his own spiritual life. Whatever he
said to others passed first through his own heart and therein
it gained something deeper and more soul-stirring than any
natural fluency or learning could impart.

Testimonies to his success as a missioner are numerous,
" The results of your mission," wrote a Parish Priest, " have
exceeded my anticipations and all previous experiences.
Indeed, the people speak of it with awe, as of a miraculous
manifestation and veritable outpouring of grace " " Your
retreat here has been a wonderful success," says another
letter, " It has completely changed many. People are still
talking about it, and better still, living up to its lessons."
" I can't tell you," wrote a Parish Priest after his death,

" how we all loved him in D . The people could never

get enough of him, and asked to have him back again and
again. I wanted him here when I came, but he was just
starting for the Front " " Father," said a man at the end
of a mission, " it was the holiest mission we ever had." From
time to time Willie himself speaks in his letters of his mission
work and how blessed it was by God.

68 .FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

" My success here," he writes " has far surpassed anything
I looked for. But it is, of course, the work of God's grace.
I do not think I could possibly find food for vainglory in
anything I have done no more than an organ-grinder prides
himself on the beautiful music he produces by turning a
handle. God knows I only wish and seek His greater glory,
and to make others love Him, if I cannot love Him myself
All along I felt it was all His doing, and that I was just a
mere instrument in His hands, and a wretched one at that.
All through I had the feeling that I was like an old bucket
full of holes, which broke the poor Lord's Heart as He tried
to carry His precious grace into the hearts of His children."

" I think Jesus was pleased with our work here. He
certainly showed it on Sunday when I asked Him to give
me in honour of His Blessed Mother all the souls I intended
to visit that day They all gave in to His grace, including
several who had not been to the sacraments for very man}'
years. People say it is hard to love God. I only wish they
could realize how much He loves them and wishes their
salvation and happiness."

" I have come back from the missions with feelings of
joy and gratitude, for these- last three missions have been
blessed in a wonderful way. God seems to take a special
delight in seconding my efforts, just because I have hurt
Him so much in the past and have been so really ungrateful.
It is one of the big humiliations of my life and makes me
thoroughly ashamed of myself that our Blessed Lord for His
own wise ends conceals my shortcomings from others and
allows me to do a little good. But He does not hide the
wretched state of my soul from myself. I am not speaking
in a false humble strain, but serious truth. If you, or anyone
else, could only see the way I have acted towards Jesus
all my life, you would turn away from me in disgust."

" I have had much consolation in my work recently. The
last mission was the hardest I have given, yet it seems to
have been singularly blessed. All this love and goodness
on the part of Jesus only fills me with a deep sorrow that I
can do so little for Him. I am getting afraid of Him, just
because He is so generous to me and blesses all I do. I feel
ashamed when people praise me for my work, the sort of

MISSIONS AND RETREATS 69

shame a piano might feel if someone complimented it on the
beautiful melody that came from its keys. I am realizing
more and more that all success is entirely God's work, and
that self does not count at all. I have this strange feeling
that when I get to heaven I shall have little merit for any
thing I have done for God's glory, since all has been the
work of His Hands."

Though he accomplished so much on the general missions,
he found more congenial work in giving retreats, especially
to religious communities During his first two years on the
mission staff he was chiefly engaged in giving retreats to
sodalities and religious communities. Here was fruitful soil
for the self-denial and penance, the love of God and of
perfection, which were his constant themes, and for whose
easy attainment he had many plans and holy devices. His
zeal and enthusiasm for God and the things of God joined
to attractive qualities of person and character made an
impression wherever he went, and soon he was much sought
after. During one summer he received more than forty
invitations from religious communities to give them their
annual retreat. From the very many testimonies to the
good he effected a few typical sentences may be quoted.

" No retreat ever made a deeper impression on the com
munity, or raised the tone of the house to such a high level
of spirituality, as that conducted by Fr. Doyle."

"A saintly old laysister wept the whole retreat tears of
joy, saying she had never in her whole forty-five years in
religion felt and seen so visibly the effects of grace in herself
and others."

" Many said they never realized before what religious
life meant, but that now they were going to give God
everything."

" Rev. Mother told the Bishop that no retreat for the
past forty years had made such an impression. "-

It is curiou^ to note that in spite of the signal success
which crowned his ministry, he was at times subject to intense
depression and discouragement. " Such fear, dread and
hatred of the coming mission came over me," he writes to
a friend, " that I was on the point of writing to ask not to
be sent, and at the last moment I very nearly telegraphed
to say I couldn't possibly travel "

70 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

" I went to M in the lowest depths of fear and misery.

For some time before I had been very ungenerous with God
and must have pained Him much. On this account I felt
I had no right to count on His help. But Jesus took His
revenge by helping me more than ever. Such loving for
giveness of injury makes me feel oh ! so ashamed of my
meanness."

" You would hardly believe the fierceness of the
temptation — the old one — before beginning this mission, the
temptation to ask to get off it, in fact to give up the mission
life altogether as something almost unbearable. When the
work starts the storm subsides somewhat, but honestly I
am afraid of myself, that in my weakness I may some day
ruin God's work in souls by giving in to what I see in calmer
moments to be a temptation."

" For three-quarters of an hour I preached in agony, with
the perspiration rolling from every pore. I was not afraid
of breaking down before the congregation — that would have
been a relief — but the physical effort to utter each word
was torture, and the longing, time after time more intense,
to come down from the pulpit was almost irresistible. They
told me I preached well that night, yet I was quite unnerved,
and only God knows what I went through."

Once he even wrote : "I am ending this retreat with the
resolution of never giving another." Fortunately it was one
of the few resolutions he never kept. Such attacks of
dejection are quite intelligible in one of Fr. Doyle's emotional
temperament. Even from the purely natural point of view,
his exertion of personal influence on others was an exhausting
experience ; in all such efforts something, as it were, seems
to pass out of one and to enter into one's hearers. It was
probably some subconscious perception of this which made
him so often in anticipation shrink from the ordeal. But
he never gave way to this discouragement and repugnance.
He worked till the end as a valiant soldier of Christ, laying
aside all thoughts of personal predilection and considerations
of ease. He crowded his mission years with unremitting
toil, as if in premonition of an early death. Consummatus
in brevi, explevit tempora multa.1

i. — " Being- made perfect in a short space, he fulfilled a long time." —
Wisdom 4, 13.

RETREATS FOR THE WORKERS 71

(2.) RETREATS FOR THE WORKERS.

It is a tribute to Fr. Doyle's broadminded character and
manysided interests that he not only devoted himself to
giving retreats to religious and priests, but was also a warm
advocate — indeed, as far as Ireland is concerned, a pioneer
propagandist — of retreats for working men and women. He
had seen for himself the great good effected by such retreats
in France and Belgium and also, since 1908, in England.
He became convinced that in Ireland, too, such a work was
of great social and religious urgency. Though in his lifetime
he failed to overcome the forces of conservative inaction
and apathy, the seed which he sowed will surely in the near
future germinate into a fruitful apostolate. The question
is by no means, as many at the time fancied, a mere fad or
an unnecessary spiritual luxury. The provision of workers*
retreats might conceivably have been a matter of argument
a few years ago ; to-day it is clearly an immediately
imperative step, if the Church is to acquire or to retain its
influence over democracy, restive, newly awakened and
determined.1 There are already in Ireland several religious
houses where middle-class lay men and women can make
a retreat either singly or in groups. Will it be said that it
is the purely material difficulty which is allowed to debar
Irish workers from similar facilities ? If we admit that an
annual retreat is necessary for priests and religious, and
that occasional or periodical retreats are extremely
advantageous to Catholic layfolk, why should any economic
or social differentiation exist ? The mission or public retreat,
during which people live their ordinary life and pursue their
usual work while attending some extra sermons, is an
altogether different matter. What is here in question is
strictly and literally a retreat ; a withdrawal, however brief,
from the scenes and cares and routine of daily life ; an
opportunity, were it only for a week-end, of realising Christ's
message and ideal in prayerful silence and with full leisure

i. — On the social results of retreats see Fr. Plater's Retreats for the
People (1912), ch. 13.

72 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

of soul. The Spiritual Exrecises are a serious and a sacred
task demanding wholehearted attention and devotion ; they
are deprived of their efficacy and influence if they are reduced
to mere interludes before and after a day filled with toil
and trouble and talk St. Ignatius is insistent on the
observance of the "Additions," some of which may seem
rather minute to us — such as the exclusion of light during
the serious sombre meditations of the First Week — but
which altogether constitute a very necessary spiritual
environment. It is indeed the lesson of our Lord Himself :
the soil must be prepared for the seed. How often does the
seed fall amid brambles ! Many is the one " that heareth
the word, and the cares of this world and the deceitfulness
of riches choketh up the word, and he becometh fruitless."
(S. Matthew 13, 22.) Preparation for seed-sowing is as
necessary in soul-culture as it is in agriculture.

There is ample evidence that a retreat, filling a man's
whole life for a few days amid pleasant and spiritually
refreshing surroundings, makes a far deeper and more lasting
impression than a public mission during which a man lives
and works as usual, perhaps in the midst of squalor, noise
and misery.

" Only those who have witnessed the retreats (says
Fr. Plater1 ) can have any idea of the wonderful miracles of
grace which they normally effect The men — plain workmen
for the most part — enter on the retreat with some bewilder
ment and even apprehension. Some are merely awkward,
others almost defiant. Ringleaders of infidelity have been
known to come out of curiosity, the only condition required
of them being that they should keep the rules of the house.
But on the second day a change is seen on the faces of all.
They are very much in earnest — hopeful and courageous,
and for the most part as simple and docile as children It
is touching to hear their expressions of gratitude for the
benefits which they have received from their retreat, which
all are sorry to quit at the end of three days."

" There is a vast difference," remarks Fr. Doyle in his

i. — In his pamphlet Retreats for Workers (C.T.S. London) p. 13. See also
the vivid account of Gilbert Cloquet's retreat at Fayt-Manag-e in Rene Bazin's
Rising Corn, ch. 13.

RETREATS FOR THE WORKERS 73

own little pamphlet,1 " between the methods employed and
the fruit resulting from a mission and a retreat. The one
makes its influence felt only at certain hours in the evening,
the other at every hour ; the first uses a few well-known
means of moving the heart, the other employs every act
of the day, all directed towards one definite end ; in the
mission it is the preacher who does the work, in a retreat
the exercitant himself. . . . The efficacy of a retreat
consists in personal reflection, favoured by the absence of
all distracting occupations and the logical sequence of subjects
treated. Solitude, silence and serious reflection, united to
fervent prayer, act powerfully upon the soul and cause it
to experience sentiments hitherto unknown. . . It

appeals not to the indifferent crowd, the careless liver, but
to the elite, to those who by their intelligence or influence
are capable of leading others by their example. It seeks
first for the upright and virtuous, the men of character and
zeal, and not content with making them better Christians,
more solicitous about their own salvation, strives to mould
them into lay apostles."

Fr. Doyle did not profess to be an expert social reformer,
he had no panacea to advocate for curing the ills of society.
But he made a contribution which sprang from the depths
of his own inner experience. He realized that the social
problem cannot be stated as a duel between profits and
wages, that democracy cannot be built merely on increased
comfort and amusement. And so he uttered his plea,
unfortunately premature, that the ideals of the workers
should be raised and purified and strengthened by contact
with Christ, the divine Workman of Nazareth. He knew
that every toiler is a person, not a mere ' hand ' or chattel,
an immortal soul for whom Christ died. Having himself
tasted the Saviour's banquet, he proposed to " go out quickly
into the streets and lanes of the city and bring hither the
poor and the feeble and the blind and the lame." " When
thou makest a dinner or a supper," said our Lord — and are
not His words as applicable to a spiritual as to a material

I. — Retreats for Workingmen : Why not in Ireland? (Dublin, Irish
Messenger Office, July, 1909) pp. 8f. It is worth observing that this plea for
retreats \\as penned by a successful mt'ssioner.

74 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

feast ? — " call not thy friends nor thy brethren nor thy
kinsmen nor thy neighbours who are rich. . . . But call
the poor, the maimed, the lame and the blind." It is these,
after all, who have most need of spiritual experience and
help, these who, even in Catholic Ireland, live with stunted
souls and impoverished bodies in hovels and tenements and
garrets. Surely, for Fr. Doyle's outspoken invitation, we
may say that ' recompense shall be made him at the
resurrection of the just.'1 (S. Luke 14. 12-21.)

His efforts, however, were destined to have no immediate
success, in spite of the fact that he had a warm supporter
in his Provincial (Fr. William Delany) who, in the autumn
of 1912, sent him to the Continent to investigate. Fr. Doyle
inspected many retreat-houses for workingmen in France,
Belgium and Holland, and thus gained valuable information
and experience. Besides the pamphlet already mentioned
there survives one letter written at this time, which may be
quoted more for its personal interest than for its relevancy
to the question of retreats.

" I have picked up an immense amount of useful infor
mation about Workingmen's Retreats since I came here.
Everybody has been kindness itself and helped me in every
way. Indeed this trip has been, and will be, of great service
to me and God's work. More than once the Hand of God
was plainly visible in little incidents which may eventually
lead to big things, the missing of a train bringing about the
chance meeting of one who gave me great help, and so in
other ways. When leaving Ireland I did not think my
journey was to mean so much for myself spiritually. At
Lourdes, at Tours, at Angers, and other places, our dearest
Lord seemed to have had His message prepared and waiting
for me. I had a feeling all along that my visit to Lisieux
would do much for me, and I was not mistaken ; so that
I am coming home like a bee laden with the honey of God,
which I pray Him not to allow me to squander or misuse.
I saw many interesting places and things during my weeks

i. — We can gauge his intense interest in the project from this entry in his

diary (20 Dec., 1914) : " During a visit to Church I felt urged to promise

our Blessed Lady to try and give up meat on Saturdays in her honour, if
she in return will bring about the starting of the Workmen's Retreats this
summer (1915)."

RETREATS FOR THE WORKERS 75

of travel. But over all hung a big cloud of sadness, for I
realised as I never did before how utterly the world has
forgotten Jesus except to hate and outrage Him, the fearful,
heart-rending amount of sin visible on all sides, and the
vast work for souls that lies before us priests. My feelings
at times are more than I can describe. The longing to make
up to our dear Lord for all He is suffering is overwhelming,
and I ask Him, since somehow my own heart seems indifferent
to His pleading, to give me the power to do much and very
much to console Him."

In spite of the information thus acquired and the subsequent
propaganda in which he engaged, funds remained inadequate
and public opinion seemed unmoved. Once, indeed, he was
very near success. He was sent for by the Provincial who
told him that a suitable residence and grounds had been
offered and that he was to take charge of the first Retreat
House for Workers in Ireland. A few days later the house
destined for retreats was burnt down by suffragettes ! And
thus the project fell through.

In spite of this failure Fr. Doyle had the happiness of
putting his views to one practical test. After many delays
and difficulties it was arranged that he should give a three
days' retreat to the employees of the Providence Woollen
Mills, Foxford, Co. Mayo. Holy Saturday (3rd April, 1915)
was selected as the opening day, so that the triduum could
include the Monday Bank Holiday, on which day alone the
School would be closed and the schoolrooms available. The
men did not at all appreciate the idea beforehand, they were
nervous and uneasy at the novel proposal, and kept wondering
' what they were in for/ The general tone was, ' Really
this is too much of a good thing, hadn't we a (public) retreat
in the parish a few months ago ? ' Only the mill-workers
(and also a few outsiders, Pioneers) were invited ; and. of
course, they were left perfectly free to come or not as they
pleased. Naturally there was some anxiety about the
attendance, but to the relief of the good Sisters of Charity,
a large number turned up for the first lecture.1 Each man
got a typed copy of the order of time. The day was well

i. — Of the 62 men then employed in the Mills 60 made the retreat ; these
were joined by five others who petitioned the favour.

76 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

filled, only small intervals being left free. Mass was at eight
o'clock, there were four instructions, two or three visits to
the Blessed Sacrament, the Stations of the Cross, a couple
of rosaries, and some spiritual reading. The Senior School
which is bright and spacious made a very devotional oratory,
the lower rooms being free for reading or smoking. The
convent garden was placed at the exercitants' disposal, and
it was edifying to see them walking about singly or in silent
groups. The rosary was said out of doors and was very
impressive, the men walking in procession followed by
Fr. Doyle, who recited the prayers aloud. The brass
instruments of the Mill Band accompanied the Benediction
Service and Hymns, in singing which the whole congregation
joined.

Almost from the very start the men gave evident signs
that they had lost all their awkwardness or suspiciousness,
they quickly entered into the peace and calm of this unwonted
spiritual atmosphere. " No man ever made such an
impression," writes one of the exercitants. " Fr. Doyle's
saintly appearance and attractive manner at once captured
our attention, and time passed so quickly while he spoke
that each lecture, though invariably half an hour, seemed
but a moment. His words were simple and clear, and
delivered in so kindly and gentle a fashion that they were
just what he liked to call them — ' little chats.' We had
been accustomed to fiery threatening sermons at missions,
where God's justice is painted with so much eloquence,
making one tremble at the uncertainty of salvation. But
here the words of the saintly preacher sent us away with the
impression : ' How easy it is after all for me to save my
soul ! God is good, He loves me, and what He asks is very
small.' ' One lecture on Reparation to the Sacred Heart
made an abiding impression on the hearers. The outrages
and insults heaped on Christ throughout the world were
vividly depicted by one who had seen them nigh, and were
consolingly contrasted with the religious mission of Ireland,
whereof every Irish Catholic worker ought to be the watchful
custodian.

At the close of the retreat, on Easter Tuesday morning,
all the men went to Mass and Holy Communion, listened
to a farewell lecture, assisted at Benediction and received

RETREATS FOR THE WORKERS 77

the Papal Blessing. Fr. Doyle then shook hands with each
man as he left the room, and by this simple friendly act
captured the last corner of every heart. The typical comment
was, ' It was entirely too short ; if only we had another
day ! ' Those best entitled to judge state that the retreat
will never be forgotten, and are confident that the good
then accomplished will not be undone.1

The success of this retreat shows clearly the deep spiritual
influence which a House of Retreats in or near Dublin could
exert on our Catholic workers, who at present often find
anti-Catholic influences far more accessible. But from this
Foxford experiment we may draw another, and perhaps
even more practical, inference. That is, the possibility of
having, throughout the country, retreats for working men
and women, without the necessity of providing special retreat-
houses at all. Just as the Sisters at Foxford provided
facilities for their workers iri their school and convent, just
as the clergy themselves make their annual retreat in some
diocesan college or vacant seminary, so, we begin to realise,,
could schools while idle in vacation time, or similar institutions.
with available space, be utilised for providing occasional
retreats for our less fortunate brothers and sisters who toil
in fields and factories and live in hovels and slums.2 We
have provided for our friends, our brethren, our kinsmen,
and our neighbours who are rich. "And the Lord said : Go
out into the highways and hedges and compel them to come
in that My house may be filled." (S. Luke 14. 23.)

The following lines were written by Fr. Charles Plater,
S.J., to whom more than anyone else the introduction of
workers' retreats into England is due.3 They constitute

i. — Fr. Doyle had originally proposed that the Sisters should provide board
and lodging for the exercitants, but on becoming acquainted with the local
circumstances he agreed that this was unnecessary. The men live close by.
with very little in their surroundings to distract them ; and they are accustomed
to the bell summoning them to and irom their meals. The full work-time lost
on the retreat was \% days (Monday and portion of Tuesday). The men were
paid for this time, though they were not told this beforehand ; the loss of
wages was also made up to the women who were necessarily idle while the
Mill was closed.

2. — During the summer vacation (Christmas) 1918, a successful retreat was
made by 96 workers in Kew College, Melbourne.

3. — In his Retreats for the People: A Sketch of a Great Revival, 1912, p. 134,
Fr. Plater says : " Before regular retreat-houses were established in England
it was by no means uncommon for Irishmen living in this country to go over to
Ireland for the purpose of making a retreat in a Franciscan friary or some
other religious establishment."

78 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

at once a sincere tribute from an intimate fellow-worker
and a straight appeal to Catholic Ireland.

" I lived for some years with big-hearted Willie Doyle
and loved him. We were seminarians together and I saw
much of him. He was always bubbling over with mirth
and generally at the bottom of any harmless mischief that
might be afoot, but only the shallow-minded could have
mistaken his gaiety for thoughtlessness. Underneath his
mercurial behaviour were steadily glowing ideals and
enthusiasm. He had a deep and simple piety and a burning
love for Ireland.

"After he left Stony hurst, and again still later when we
were both priests, we corresponded much on the subject
of workers' retreats. His quick imagination pictured the
immense good which might be effected by their introduction
into Ireland. With his whole soul he threw himself into
the work of promoting them. His letters are just himself. —
ardent, enthusiastic, full of piety and love of country. He
would, I am convinced, gladly have given his life to see the
retreats established in Ireland. He was acutely distressed
.because others could not see what he saw so plainly:

' I did not write because I had nothing but disappoint
ment, opposition, cold shower-baths and crosses to chronicle,
the last and biggest cross being the sudden death of my
truest supporter, Fr. X— — . Your news about the success
in England is glorious, and yet I am assured that mine will
come in Dublin if ever a house is opened. ... I am
confident the real difficulty will be to keep the men out
I never realised till I got on the mission staff the immense
amount of faith and love for holy things there is everywhere
still in Ireland. ... It has been a four years' Calvary,
but yesterday the Resurrection, I hope, began, for I heard
that Rathfarnham Castle with 53 acres has been purchased
at last, and I have the Provincial's promise (when that
took place) to allow me to make a start in the stables.
Ye Gods ! Fancy the mighty Doyle preaching in a stable !
Very like the Master is it not ?' (May 20th, 1913).

" He found it hard to be patient with those who urged
expense as an insuperable obstacle, for he knew that once

RETREATS FOR THE WORKERS 79

a start was made the money would come. The Island of
Saints would not allow a School for Saints to suffer through
lack of funds. Again, it was objected that Ireland had not
a large class of well-paid artisans, who, it was supposed,
must form the bulk of the retreatants ; and here, too,
Willie Doyle saw that the objection was groundless as the
history of popular retreats had shown. ' Why not in
Ireland ? ' was the sub-title of his excellent pamphlet on
Retreats for Workers, and his challenging question was
really unanswerable.

"There is only one possible memorial to Fr. William Doyle,
and that is a house of retreats for workers in Ireland, That
he would have asked for ; indeed, we may be sure that he
does ask for it. Those to whom his life of smiles and tears
and his glorious death have been an inspiration will surely
help him to get it."

(3.) THE HOLY CHILDHOOD.

From the notes of his Long Retreat it is already clear
that Fr. Doyle more than once volunteered for the foreign
mission.1 His wish was never gratified, unless perhaps we
can regard as a foreign mission that last ministry fulfilled
amid scenes of savagery mingled with heroism. But he
remained to the end intensely interested in the field whither
the Lord did not call him to harvest. Often in his retreats2
did he ask his hearers to think of the great army of pagans
which would take thirty-one and a half years to pass, one
per second, in single file. Often did he kindle his zeal and
increase his reparation at the thought of the sins of so-called
Christians and the ignorance of them that sit in darkness.
Furthermore, his interest in the foreign missions took a
very practical -shape, namely, that of helping the Association
of the Holy Childhood. This Association, founded in 1843
by Mgr. de Forbin Janson, Bishop of Nancy, has for its object

i. — See p. 53. He was so confident that he would be sent to the Congo,
that he procured a catechism in the native language and interleaved it with an
English translation. This little souvenir still survives as a proof of his practical
and resolute zeal.

2. — See also p. 22 of his pamphlet Shall I be a Priest?

So FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

the rescue of children in Africa and Asia, who have been
abandoned and left to die by their parents. By its means
more than eighteen million little babies have been saved
and baptised ; most of these neglected mites did not long
survive baptism. The members help the work of the
Association by their prayers and offerings. Fr. Doyle was
able to collect considerable sums by his zealous and ingenious
methods. He had attractive cards printed each with a
picture of a rescued babe and an invitation to buy a black
baby for half-a-crown, the purchaser having the right to
select the baptismal name ! " I do not know," he wrote
from the Front on 3ist July, 1916, " if I told you that the
Black Baby Crusade, though now partly suspended, proved
a great success. I got well over a thousand half-crowns ;
and as in some places a poor child can be bought for sixpence,
there should be a goodly army of woolly black souls now
before the throne of God.1 In addition, two priests, one
in Scotland, the other in Australia, have taken up my card-
scheme and are working it well. The idea of buying a little
godchild from the slavery of the devil and packing it off
safe to heaven, appeals to many." Like every other available
method of saving souls, it appealed to Fr. Doyle ; and he
brought to it his characteristic humour and energy.

(4.) VOCATIONS.

Fr. Doyle was naturally interested in helping, encouraging
and advising those who desired to work for Christ as priests
or religious. This interest he showed by personal direction
and correspondence and also by the publication of two simple
little pamphlets which have had a phenomenal success.
Vocations, issued in August 1913, is now in its tenth edition
(looth thousand) ; Shall I be a Priest ?, first issued in March
1915, has reached its seventh edition (4Oth thousand) ; both
are published by the Irish Messenger Office, Dublin. In

i. — According- to the Annals of the Holy Childhood (Irish Branch), Nov., 1917,
p. 90, Fr. Doyle " collected in a comparatively short time, before leaving-
Ireland as C F. at the Front, the large sum of nearly £200 'to buy black
babies ' for God."

VOCATIONS 8r

the second last letter he ever wrote, sent to his father from
the Front, on 25th July, 1917, he gives an interesting account
of how he came to write the brochure on Vocations. The
letter itself is headed " bits and scraps for an old man's
breakfast," it was hastily written in the open air and expressed
in good-humored homely language for a father whom he
tenderly loved and who, he knew, was interested in every
detail of what he did.

" You will be glad to know, as I was, that the ninth edition
(90,000 copies) of my little book Vocations is rapidly being
exhausted. After my ordination, when I began to be con
sulted on this important subject, I was struck by the fact
that there was nothing one could put into the hands of boys
and girls to help them to a decision, except ponderous
volumes, which they would scarcely read. Even the little
treatise by St. Liguori which Fr. Charles gave me during
my first visit to Tullabeg, and which changed the whole
current of my thoughts, was out of print. I realized the
want for some time; but one evening as I walked back to
the train after dining with you, the thought of the absolute
necessity for such a book seized me so strongly, (I could
almost point out the exact spot on the road), that there and
then I made up my mind to persuade someone to write it, for
I never dreamt of even attempting the task myself.

" I soon found out that the shortest way to get a thing
done is to do it yourself, or rather God in His goodness had
determined to make use of me, because I was lacking in the
necessary qualifications, to get His work done, for I am
firmly convinced that both in Vocations and Shall I be a
Priest ? my part consisted in the correction of the proof
sheets and in the clawing in of the shower of ' bawbees.'

" I remember well when the MSS. — which does not
stand for ' Mrs ' as Brother Frank Hegarty read out once
in Clongowes : 'St. Jerome went off to Palestine carrying
his Missus ' — had passed the censors to my great surprise,
the venerable manager of the Messenger Office began shaking
his head over the prospect of its selling, for as he said with
truth, ' It is a subject which appeals to a limited few.' He
decided to print 5,000, and hinted I might buy them all
myself !

82 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S J.

" Then when the pamphlet began to sell and orders to come
in fast, I began to entertain the wild hope that by the time
I reached the stage of two crutches and a long white beard,
I might possibly see the 100,000 mark reached. We are
nearly at that now without any pushing or advertising, and
I hope the crutches and flowing beard are still a long way
off. God is good, is He not ? As the second edition came
out only in the beginning of 1914 the sale has been extra
ordinarily rapid

" It is consoling from time to time to receive letters from
convents or religious houses, saying that some novice had
come to them chiefly through reading Vocations ; for
undoubtedly there are many splendid soldiers lost to Christ's
army for the want of a little help and encouragement. . . .
A welcome gift from a benefactor, not a benefactress this
time, has just reached me in the shape of a donation of £3
to distribute a thousand free copies of Vocations. The donor
believes that if one cannot oneself volunteer for the war,
the next best thing is to try to get someone else to do so.
One never can tell into what generous heart the good seed
may fall, or the number of souls that possibly may be saved
by this distribution. May God bless him and send along
a thousand more imitators, for ' the harvest is great and the
labourers few ' said our Blessed Lord, and He ought
to know ! "

The success of this unpretentious little pamphlet, written
without any affectation of style or erudition, demonstrated
very clearly the untold good that can be done by instructive
and devotional literature, Fr. Doyle never intended to
become an author, and modestly felt that he was not equipped
for literary or theological expositions. But as abler men
seemed unable to write for ordinary souls or preferred to
criticise the ventures of others, he; felt it his duty to put
down in clear simple language the thoughts and ideals for
which he himself lived and worked. And he was more than
justified by the spiritual harvest he reaped thereby. Besides
the letter just quoted there are in his correspondence many
other references to the results of his pamphlet. Thus he
writes on one occasion : "I have just had a visit from a
' rich young lady,' a perfect stranger to me, whose eyes have

VOCATIONS 83

been opened by reading Vocations. I have had two or three
cases like this recently ; which is ample reward for the
trouble the book cost me." " My little book on Vocations,"
he says in another letter, " has brought me a good deal of

consolation lately. The Superior of X told me they

had at least two novices whose thoughts had been first directed
to religious life by reading the pamphlet and that another,
whose vocation was due in great measure to the book, was
expected in a few days from Australia. Yesterday I had

a letter from the Fathers in London telling me several

of their young men had been led to take the final step by the
same means. Some time ago a Lutheran, recently received
into the Church, wrote from New York saying that the
pamphlet had appealed to him so much that he was now
studying for the priesthood. This is encouraging and proves
what I have always held, that there are vocations in
abundance if only they were helped a little."

The unexpected success of Vocations led Fr. Doyle to write
another pamphlet to which he gave the title Shall I be a
Priest ? It was written with simple direct fervour and would
serve equally as a consideration for priests on the dignity
of the sacerdotal office or as a help to a diffident aspirant.
The frontispiece represents a little child knocking at the
tabernacle-door and saying, ' Jesus, I want to be a holy
priest.' The appropriateness of all this will be understood
from the following letter. " It is not mine but Jesus' alone,"
he wrote, " for every word seemed to come from the
Tabernacle before which I wrote it, the greater part on the
altar itself.1 Nominally it is written for boys, but in reality
I have tried to give a message to my fellow-priests, and at
the same time to stir up greater love and reverence in the
hearts of all who may read it. Its defects are many, because
such a subject would require the pen of an archangel. But
I feel Jesus will bless the tiny book and make it do
His work."

While Fr. Doyle was working with superhuman energy
as military chaplain, he kept planning some further
pamphlets. Except the titles — Union with God, Letters to

i.— Compare The Priest of the Eucharist [P£re Eymard], Eng. tr. 1881, p. 22.

84 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

One who is Hesitating, Spiritual Communion, An Explanation
of the Priest's Actions at Mass — he committed nothing to
writing except the following few jottings, hastily scribbled
while crouching in some dug-out. As they refer to the subject
of vocations, they may be here inserted.

" Vocation Letters."

" i Escape from world. Christ said ' I pray not for the
world.' Eagerness to get away from plague, infected places.

2 Every action, step done for God. Three things in
prayer : merit, satisfaction, and impetration.

3 Fear of unhappiness. Bernadette : ' I do not promise
to make you happy in this world.' ' Ought not Christ to
have suffered ? '

4 Joy of sacrifice ; when made, great joy after fear.

5 End. ' Well done, good servant.' Real life is to come.

6 ' Could do more good in world.' Many Masses, fast,
works of zeal, sacrifice of will greater than all.

7 Cutting on Pagan Religious Orders ; no vocation, yet
perseverance ; penitents to help.

8 Don Bosco refused 300 foundations for want of subjects
(nuns), also Angers,

9 A good religious experiences more pleasure and con
solation from a single pious exercise such as Mass, visit to
the Blessed Sacrament, than people of the world take. . .
(Ven. Fr. Champagnat.) "

Fr. Doyle's interest in vocations was not confined merely
to literary advocacy. He was always generously ready with
personal advice and assistance. He helped a very large
number of girls to enter religious houses and a not incon
siderable number of boys to enter religion or to prepare for
the priesthood. Many a visit did he pay to convents, many
were the letters he wrote in his efforts to ' place ' vocations.
When Ireland failed, he tried England, and even America,
Australia, and South Africa. Once he was satisfied that a
true vocation existed, he could not be disheartened by any
temporal disabilities.1 An interesting and ingenious scheme

i. — He got one girl with a wooden leg and another 'with a paralysed left
hand into American convents. Both are now professed and are doing- good
work.

VOCATION LETTERS 85

which he started, while on leave from the Front, may be
best indicated in his own words (in a letter to his father
dated 25 July, 1917) :

" I do not know if I have told you of a scheme which I
have in my mind to help poor boys who are anxious to be
priests. Before the war I came in contact with a number
of very respectable lads and young men, whose one desire
was to work for God and the salvation of souls, but who,
for want of means, were not able to pursue their studies.
I was able to help some of them and get them free places
in America or England, with a couple at Mungret, but the
number of applicants was far in excess of the resources.

" One day having successfully negotiated or missed a
couple of shells, I was struck instead by a happy idea. I was
coming home on leave and made up my mind to make an
experiment with my new idea, which was this. I gave a
little talk to the Sodality of the Children of Mary in a certain
convent in Dublin on the need for priests at the present
time, and what a glorious work it was to help even a single
lad to become one of the ' Lord's Anointed.' I told them
how many were longing for this honour, and suggested that
they should adopt some poor boy and pay for his education
until lie was ordained. Two hundred girls subscribing 5/-
a year would provide £50, more than enough for the purpose.
I suggested that this money ought to be the result of some
personal sacrifice, working overtime, making a hat or dress
last longer, etc., but as a last resource they might collect
the 5/- or some of it.

" The idea was taken up most warmly : nearly all the
money for this year is paid in, though the girls are nearly
all factory hands, and the lucky boy will begin his college
course in September. I am hoping ' when the cruel war
is o'er ' to get the other convents to follow suit ; for the
scheme is simple and no great burden on any one, and is
a ready solution of the financial difficulty and should bring
joy to many a boy's heart. Certain difficulties naturally
suggest themselves, but I think we may safely count a little
at least on our Blessed Lord's help, since the work is being
done for Him, and go on with confidence."

How dear this scheme was to Fr. Doyle may be gathered

86 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

from this entry in his diary : " May 24th (1917). Feast of
Notre Dame Auxiliatrice, who helped Don Bosco so much
in his work for young priests. I formally to-day made
Mary the Protectress of the work which I am beginning for
her young priests."

It will be convenient to mention here Fr. Doyle's translation
of the Life of P£re Ginhac by A. Calvet, S.J. " Printer
after printer refused to have anything to do with the book,"
he wrote, " though I staked Fr. Ginhac's reputation that it
would prove a financial success." Finally Messrs. R. and T.
Washbourne undertook to produce the work, and it appeared
in 1914 as A Man after God's Own Heart : Life of Father
Paul Ginhac, S.J. When Fr. Doyle heard that the price
was fixed at 8/6 net, he thought that the sale was killed
for " not many people would care to invest such a sum in
the life of a man no one had ever heard of." But to his
astonishment 900 copies went through in the first year, and
up to December 1916 altogether 1,244 copies had been sold.
" Pere Ginhac," he wrote to his father, " has certainly worked
this miracle if he never did anything else ; and I am beginning
to think he is not a bad sort of an old chap, even though
he looked so desperately in need of a square meal ! "
Fr. Ginhac's portrait certainly represents him as cadaverous
and grim-visaged, a contrast with his admirer and translator,
whose mortified life was never allowed to interfere with his
buoyant naturalness and irrepressible spirit of fun. The
book seems to have impressed and helped many readers,
for Fr. Doyle continues : "I have had a pile of letters from
all parts of the world — Alaska, Ceylon, South Africa, etc. —
asking for relics and mentioning many favours received
through the holy father's intercession ; so that the labour
of getting out the volume (and it was not light) has brought
its own reward." Thus wrote Fr. Doyle a month before
his death. Little did he dream that his own life would be
written, and that his influence would be mingled with that
of his fellow-religious whom he helped to make known
to others.

Father Doyle at the Age of Fifteen.

INNER LIFE: INTRODUCTION 87

CHAPTER VI.
INNER LIFE

(i.) INTRODUCTION.

IT is not as a successful missioner nor as a zealous director
that Fr. Doyle chiefly merits our attention and study.
The main interest of this biography is within, in the
inner life of the soul. Exteriorly there was little remarkable
in his career. Many another missionary has reaped a more
abundant harvest, many other directors have been far more
skilled in moral and mystical theology. Doubtless, too,
there are in our midst many unrecognised saints whose hidden
interior life is precious in the sight of God and would be
deemed glorious by men if they but knew it. But it is our
good fortune that we can in the case of Fr. Doyle read, at
least partially, the record of his true life ; we can view his
career not only as men saw it, but,also as it appeared to God
and to himself. And to appreciate his life at its real value
we must forget altogether that adventitious halo of earthly
glory which lit up its last phase. It is most important for
us to avoid placing his war-experience in false perspective
or attributing to it an exaggerated importance. Whatever
the world may think, his life would have been just as glorious
and heroic had he never volunteered to do Christ's work
on the battlefield. His life was a spiritual combat, an unseen
war against all that is ignoble and evil ; it needs not the
fame that is won on fields of carnage. His service as a
military chaplain did but serve to bring out his latent heroism,
it showed to men the virtue which had already been acquired
in the quiet of a religious house. Thus Fr. Doyle's life at
the Front may well serve to disarm the prejudice of those
who otherwise might be tempted to despise the little ups
and downs, the prayers and penances, the resolutions and
aspirations, which in this case are seen to be the inner facet
of what is outwardly admirable. His work for the soldiers

SS FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

was, of course, wonderfully fruitful ; his zealous ministry
ended as it began, in Belgium. And one can hardly help
feeling that his death was God's answer to his lifelong prayer
for martyrdom. Nevertheless, the centre of Fr. Doyle's
life is within, and its significance for us is quite independent
of its chance relation to human warfare. One great benefit
indeed we owe to his military chaplaincy : the fact that he
had not an opportunity of destroying his spiritual notes. It
is from these precious relics and from a few very intimate
letters that we can piece together some of the special
characteristics and methods of his spiritual life.

The predominant impression which is left after perusal of
these papers is that Fr. Doyle is wonderfully true to type —
he is of the race of Jesuit heroes. He has his own
particularities, of course, even peculiarities ; but he is unmis
takably similar to his spiritual forbears. For instance, the
Jesuit pioneer missionaries of North America were men
whose great achievements are written in the annals of
civilisation, discovery, and ethnology. They were heroes,
who for Christ left the fair land of France and buried them
selves in the woods with savage Algonquins and Hurons,
eating their coarse sagamite or oftener starving with them,
shouldering the same burdens, living in the filth and vermin
of their tepees, travelling over snow and ice, meeting not
seldom with blasphemy and obscenity. Slow calculated
heroism such as this is not a sudden inspiration or a wild
access of emotion ; it is the outcome of deep purposive
thought and painful methodic effort co-operating with grace.
The End of Man, the Kingdom of Christ, the Two Standards,
. . . . slowly step by step does Ignatius train Christ's
captains ; and slowly, day by day, in humdrum routine
and endless trivialities of self-mastery, do his sons develop
the souls of heroes. John de Brebeuf, gloriously martyred
on i6th March, 1649, used as a novice to declare : "I will be
ground to powder rather than break a rule." Only to those
who miss the inner -key will this seem a curious preparation
for foreign mission and martyrdom. Pere Enemond Masse"
(f 1646), another pioneer missionary, to prepare himself for
his apostolate in Canada, " whose conversion can be under
taken only by those who have on them the stigmata of the

INNER LIFE: INTRODUCTION 89

cross," made some reso utions which were found among his
papers after death. As they help to reveal the spiritual
affinities of Fr. Doyle, they will be here recorded :

" i. Never to sleep except on bare ground, without sheets
or mattress — which however must be kept in the room so
that no one may know what is being done.

2. Not to wear linen except round the neck.

3. Never to say Mass without a hair-shirt, in order to
make me think of the sufferings of my Master, of which the
Holy Sacrifice is the great memorial.

4. To take the discipline daily.

5. Never to take dinner unless I have first made my
examen, and if prevented to eat only a dessert.

6. Never to gratify my taste.

7. To fast three times a week, but so that no one will
know it."1

Exactly similar detailed resolutions are to be found in
nearly every page of Fr. Doyle's notes. His aspirations for
holiness were never vague or unpractical.2 During his 1909
Retreat he wrote :

" It seems to me the best and most practical resolution
I can make in this retreat is to determine to perform each
action with the greatest perfection. This will mean a
constant ' going against self/ ever agenda contra, at every
moment and every single day. I have a vast field to cover
in my ordinary daily actions, e.g. to say the Angelus always
with the utmost attention and fervour. I feel, too, that
Jesus asks this from me, as without it there can be no real
holiness."

There follows, at the end of these retreat-notes, a huge
sheaf of resolutions. Unfortunately, some of the pages having
been torn out or lost, the first thirty resolutions cannot be
ascertained. Those we know are formidable enough.

i. — T. Campbell, S.J^ Pioneer Priests of North America, vol. ii. (Among the
Hurons), p. 59. Fr. Campbell adds : " The eighth is to punish any uncharitable
word that might escape his lips. Those lips were made to pay a penalty which
•we prefer to omit."

2.— See also pp. 35, 43, 49.

90 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ,

[RESOL UTIONS.J

" 31. God wants the sacrifice of never going to plays,
concerts, cinematographs, football matches, or any sight for
pure gratification.

32. With the boys absolute meekness, gentleness, and
patience.

33. Never speak about your worries, troubles, amount of
work.

34. Do not let an unkind, angry or uncharitable word
pass your lips.

35. Don't complain of others or of anything else.

36. Always be most punctual.

37. Great fidelity to your own order of time, doing every
thing at the hour fixed.

38. If possible say all the Office on your knees before the
Blessed Sacrament.

39. Never give yourself relief in small sufferings.

40. When in pain or unwell, try and not let others know
it. Hence never say you have a headache, etc.

41. Wear hair-shirt for (erasure).

42. You have promised never deliberately to waste a
moment of time.

43. Legs or feet not to be crossed.

44. Do not read letters for some time after receiving them.

45. Be very observant about the rule of silence.

46. .The constant mortification of intense fervour at each
little duty.

In general : (a) never do anything you would like ; (6)
deny yourself every gratification ; (c) deny yourself every
pleasure ; (d) do the thing because it is hard ; (e) in all things
agere contra.

Vince Teipsum.

February 2nd, 1909.

INNER LIFE: INTRODUCTION 91

Other Mortifications :—

1. 1,000 ejaculations morning and night.

2. Do not look at pictures, advertisements on hoardings.

3. Do not look into shop windows."

This is rather an elaborate programme. With increasing
spiritual strategy, Fr. Doyle never again attempted fifty
resolutions at once. Gradually he directed all his efforts to
prayer and penance, and concentration on the passing act.
Thus he records during his 1910 Retreat :

' What is my special end, for which God made me ? More
and more each retreat I see what this is, always the same
thought, always the same desire and longing for holiness.
God wants sanctity from me. This is to be acquired chiefly
by three means : (i) constant little acts of mortification ;
(2) constant aspirations ; (3) perfection of each action, even
the odd Hail Marys."

We have here in three lines the chief characteristics or
methods of Fr. Doyle's spirituality for the remaining years
of his life. There is henceforth perceptible a remarkable
consistency in his inner life. Clearly he had, with God's
help, found those particular devices or modes of spiritual
activity which suited his mind and character. Prayer,
mortification and concentration are more or less incumbent
on all of us. It does not follow that the special forms in
which these ideals took shape in Fr. Doyle's life are suitable
to all. ' There are diversities of graces but the same
Spirit . . . and there are diversities of operations but
the same God worketh all in all." (/. Corinth. 12. 4.) Each of
us has his own individuality, just as each has his own
particular mission ; through the gates of life and death we
all pass one by one. Even the members of the same family
or community will differ considerably in aptitude for prayer,
in visualising faculty, in spiritual gifts, in devotional
attractions, in physical powers. God calls each of us
individually, not as it were anonymously and in a crowd.
" He calleth His own sheep by name." (S. John 10. 3.)

92 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

(2.) INTERIOR UNION.

Fr. Doyle had an extraordinarily vivid realisation of the
spiritual world. In his life there is no trace of any doubts
against faith. God was intensely real to him and prayer
seemed to be an actual colloquy. Holiness appeared
' natural ' to him, not in the sense that he found or made
it easy, but inasmuch as it alone satisfied his yearnings and
ideals. Thus he writes during his 1909 Retreat in preparation
for his Final Vows :

" I feel within me a constant desire or craving for holiness,
a longing for prayer and a great attraction for mortification.
Even walking along the streets I feel God tugging at my
heart and, in a sweet loving way, urging, urging, urging
me to give myself up absolutely to Him and His service.
Over and over again I say, ' My God, I will become a saint
since You ask it.' But there is no progress, no real effort.
The truth is, I am afraid of the sacrifice, afraid of doing
what God wants ; and I delude myself into thinking I am
doing God's will and satisfying Him by an empty promise.
What an abuse of grace ! This cannot go on. I feel there
must be a change now in this retreat, an absolute surrender
to all God wants."

It was especially during his retreats that he found God's
voice clear and insistent in his soul. " I am beginning my
own retreat to-morrow," he wrote in 1914. " I long for this
time all the year until it comes, and then dread it. I am
afraid of Jesus ! It is a tremendous thing to be alone with
Him for eight whole days, listening to His voice, drinking
in His love — and then to think I may not go and do His
bidding ! " Just after this retreat he wrote to an intimate
correspondent : " My own retreat was a happy time. It is
the one little oasis in my wandering life, when I can really
be alone with Jesus. The chief feature of it was a feeling
as if He were giving me great strength to face His work and
an increase of courage and confidence. In former retreats
I used to suffer from a strange fear of our dear Lord, a fear
that He might really make me see what He wanted ; in my

INTERIOR UNION 93

cowardice I dreaded that. In this last retreat this dread
was absent in great measure, and help has come from the
thought that everything will be His doing, not mine."

Even outside retreat-time he often records for his own use
inspirations received in prayer, especially before the Blessed
Sacrament. For instance, on i6th June, 1912, he writes :
" I felt the presence of Jesus very near to me while praying
in the chapel at Ramsgrange. He seemed to want me to
write down what He said : ' I want you, my child, to abandon
every gratification, generously, absolutely, for the love of
Me. Each time you give in to yourself you suffer an enormous
loss. Do ,not deceive yourself by thinking that certain
relaxations are necessary or will help your work. My grace
is sufficient for you. Give Me all at all times ; never come
down from the cross to which I have nailed you. Be generous,
go on blindly, accepting all, denying yourself all. Trust in
Me, I will sustain you, but only if you are really generous.
Begin this moment and mortify every look, action,
desire. No gratification, no relaxation, no yielding to
self. Surrender yourself to Me as My victim and let Me
make you a saint.' ' Certainly not the kind of message
one's imagination would take pleasure in conjuring up !

Of such messages from our Lord we have only the bare
record, written for God's eye and the writer's. Whether
they were vivid lights in prayer or whether they took the
form of mystical locutions, we cannot tell. At any rate,
they were a powerful incitement to holiness. In accordance
with Fr. Doyle's impulsively generous nature, these
inspirations came at times very suddenly. Thus the next
entry in his diary (loth July, 1912) is as follows : " I awoke
in the middle of the night with the feeling that Jesus
wanted me. I resisted, but at last got out of bed. At
the foot of the altar I was thinking of something else,
when suddenly He seemed to remind me of my prayer,
' Jesus come and dwell within my heart as in a tabernacle/
I felt Him urging me to this close union and He seemed
to promise me that He would remain with me ' from Com
munion to Communion '* if only I was recollected, but that

i. — So also Sceur Gertrude-Marie — Legueu, Une mystique de nos jours, 1910,
pp. 193, 196.

94 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

I would easily drive Him away by unfaithfulness especially
in want of guard over my eyes."

Often, too, Fr. Doyle would write down, as he knelt before
the Tabernacle, a detailed message which he felt Christ was
speaking to his soul.1 This entry in his diary, made on
ist April, 1914, gives us an idea of the heroic urgings which
he experienced in prayer :

" I begin to-day my twenty-fourth year in the Society,
with a heart full to overflowing with gratitude for my
vocation. I write this before my Jesus in the Tabernacle
and I have asked Him to make me note down what He wants
from me

" Jesus says : (i) I want you to trust Me more : you are
too much afraid of injuring your health by doing what I
ask of you e.g. rising at night, sleeping on boards, taking no
butter, etc. I would not urge these things so much if I did
not want them from you. Trust Me more, My child. Have
I not helped you to do many things you thought impossible
and have you suffered for it ? (2) I want you also to be
My ' Suffering Love,' never content unless you are making
some sacrifice. You have not given Me all yet, though you
know I want it, and until you do so, I cannot give you the
marvellous graces I have destined for your soul. Be brave,
be generous, but do not delay. There is joy in crucifixion.
(3) I want this year to be one of profound recollection
and intense union with Me. I have promised to dwell
physically in you as in a tabernacle, from Communion to
Communion, if you do what I have asked you — guard your
«yes. (4) Your faults of the tongue must cease from this
day, they are working you much harm. (5) You must work
for Me as you have never done before, especially by prayer
and aspirations, boldly urging souls to heroic sanctity, not
minding what people may say of you. Human respect is
one of your faults still.'

" Before leaving the chapel Jesus said : ' In future let your
heart speak ; you are afraid of letting people know that you
love Me tenderly.' '

i. — In this matter the remark of S. John of the Cross (Ascent of Mount
Carmel ii. 29, 4) is worth remembering: "I am terrified by what passes us
in these days. Any mere beginner at meditation, if he becomes conscious of
locutions during his self-recollection, forthwith pronounces them to be the work
of God, and hence says, God has spoken to me, or, I have had an answer from
God. But it is not true ; he has simply been speaking- to himself."

INTERIOR UNION 95

Apparently without regarding them as directly super
natural, Fr. Doyle felt convinced that in these experiences he
was listening to the voice of his Master. This explains what
would otherwise seem mere impulsiveness and impetuosity.
He often waited for some interior inspiration before acting,
and when it came, he obeyed instantly.1 " The resolution
I feel impelled to make to-day," he wrote on the eve of his
Last Vows (1909) "is to consult the Holy Ghost about
everything, and to do what He suggests, to listen to His
inspirations and to refuse Him nothing. I believe this would
sanctify me quickly."

And again he writes on I2th Sept. 1913 :

" I have felt strongly urged again to give myself entirely
to the guidance of the Holy Spirit and to follow His
inspirations. For example, I sometimes feel urged to take
the discipline during the day, and when I have been able
to overcome the repugnance to the trouble of it, my soul
has been filled with joy. Many other thoughts of this kind
come into my mind — to rise when I wake, not to do this or
that — I am certain they are from the Holy Spirit, but I
resist His voice, and hence feel unhappy. In future I will
say a little prayer for light and then do what I am impelled
to. Just now I was sitting in an armchair fearfully tired.
It cost me a big effort to undress and take the discipline,
and put on chain round waist. But the result was a most
marvellous increase of bodily vigour."

It need scarcely be said that such a method, in the case
of one untrained in theology or less mature in spirituality
would be fraught with great danger. It was to St. Joseph,
not to our Lady, that the angelic messages were given ; and
the converted Paul was sent for direction to Ananias. God
wishes to help us through the medium of those whom He
has appointed for the guidance of souls. So also in
Fr. Doyle's own case this promptness to carry out the
inspirations of grace by no means implied that he dispensed
himself from the general guidance of superior, director or
confessor, or, in special cases, from detailed permission.-

i. — Compare what was said of Pere Ginhac : "Generally the final decision
is postponed until the last moment. He waits for a sign from divine providence
or the least impulse of the Holy Spirit." — A Man after God's Own Heart, p. 88.

2. — See pp. 146, 172.

g6 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

This submission to external rule and guidance is the universal
characteristic of Catholic holiness. " I was once thinking,"
says St. Teresa,1 " of the great penance practised by
Dona Catalina de Cardona, and how I might have done
more, considering the desires which our Lord had always
given me, if it had not been for my obedience to my con
fessors. I asked myself whether it would not be well for the
future to disobey them in this matter. ' No, my daughter,1
said our Lord to me. ' You are on the safe and certain
road. Do you observe all her penance ? I think more of
your obedience.' ' Similarly S. Margaret Mary2 records
that our Lord said to her : "I will adjust My graces to the
spirit of thy rule, to the will of thy superioress and to thy
weakness ; so that thou must regard as suspicious everything
that might withdraw thee from the exact observance of thy
rule, to which I will that thou shouldst give the preference."

It is but natural, of course, that a fully formed Jesuit is
not in need of the same minute detailed direction which is
necessary for weaker untrained souls. S. Ignatius supposes
that the finished member of his Society is expert in the
discernment of spirits, quick to detect evil influences and
self-deception, alert to recognise the promptings of grace.
One so steeped in the spirit of the Exercises, one so watchful
in continual self -conquest, as Fr. Doyle, was well fitted to
guide himself and others in the imitation of Christ. He
had the direction of many gifted souls and he accepted this
task only with a serious sense of responsibility. He was
by no means uncritical and he was always severely practical.
He had no love for that theorising about mysticism which
is so common. " I would strongly advise you," he once
wrote, " not to read books treating of the mystical life unless
you can get a good guide. You might be imagining yourself
in a certain state when you are a thousand miles away from
it. ... Go on quietly, loving God and seeking to please
Him, without trying to find out in what exact state of
perfection your soul is." Very sound advice for any beginner
who is inclined to confuse the acquisition of a mystical
vocabulary and an abnormal habit of self-dissection with

i. — Relations iii. 12. Compare also Foundations 28. 18.
2. — Life (Paray-le-Monial), Eng-. trans. 1912, p. 37.

INTERIOR UNION 97

the actual experiences and privileges of the saints. Fr. Doyle,
of course, was not always merely negative and repressive.
To several holy souls he gave help and guidance in regions
ordinarily inaccessible. In one or two cases, perhaps three
altogether, he ultimately gave his approval to the genuine
ness of mystical phenomena such as locutions. Many times
he records in his diary a message which one of these few
spiritual children sent to him as coming from Christ. This
is an instance : " Tell him I desire this union with My whole
Heart ; I want to teach him how to deal with My disciples."
But as these messages are by no means as clear and practical
as his own lights, and as we have no means of examining
their authenticity, nothing would be gained by reproducing
them here. Besides, it is not at all clear that occasionally
Fr. Doyle's trustful sincerity was not influenced to the
detriment of a more severely critical judgement which a
riper experience would have created.

In Fr. Doyle's own case these celestial messages and
inspirations merged by insensible gradations into more homely
experiences. Like St. Ignatius tossing the reins on his mule's
neck as he rode towards Montserrat, Fr. Doyle loved to see
an intimation of God's will in what men usually call chance.
He would ' cut ' a favourite book — say, the Life of Gemma
Galgani, the Life of Pere Ginhac, or even the New Testament
itself — in order to find some helpful text ; an act to which,
by the way, we owe S. Augustine's conversion. Indeed,
wherever he was and whatever he saw, he was always ready
to see God's hand and to hear His voice. Thus he records
in his diary on 2ist Dec., 1913 : "At the end of the per
formance of Quo Vadis ? the words of our Lord seemed to
go through my soul, ' I am going to Rome to be crucified
for thee.' Jesus must have given me a big grace, for I walked
home stunned, with these words ringing in my ears, ' crucified
for thee.' Oh ! Jesus, Jesus, why cannot I be crucified for
You ? I long for it with all my heart, and yet I remain
a coward. Thank you at least for the dear light You have
given me about the life You ask from me, namely, ' to give
up every comfort and gratification, to embrace lovingly
every possible pain and suffering.' ' A devout conclusion
not always deducible from cinema shows !

98 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

Fr. Doyle's habit of interrogating everything for a spiritual
message is shown in his visits to shrines. In Feb., 1911,
when giving a retreat in Cork, he visited the grave of the
little orphan child who is known as ' Little Nellie of Holy
God.' " Kneeling there," he says, " I asked her what God
wanted from me, when I heard an interior voice clearly
repeating, ' Love Him, love Him.' The following day she
seemed to rebuke me, when leaving the cemetery, for the
careless way I performed most of my spiritual duties, and
to say that God was displeased with this and wanted great
fervour and perfection in them." In November, 1912, he
was able to pay a visit to Lourdes. "Almost the first thing "
he writes, " which caught my eye at the grotto was our
Lady's words : Penitence, penitence, penitence \ On leaving,
I asked Jesus had He any message to give me. The same
flashed suddenly into my mind and made a deep impression
on me." A week later he was in Lisieux. " Kneeling at
the grave of the Little Flower," he says, " I gave myself
into her hands to guide and to make me a saint. I promised
her to make it the rule of my whole life, every day without
exception, to seek in all things my greater mortification, to
give all and to refuse nothing. I have made this resolution
with great confidence because I realise how utterly it is
beyond my strength ; but I feel the Little Flower will get
me grace to keep it perfectly." While he was military
chaplain in France, he was able to pay two visits to Amettes
in the diocese of Boulogne, the birthplace of St. Benedict
Joseph Labre. This is how he records his second visit on
ist May, 1917 :

" Second pilgrimage to Amettes from Locre. During the
journey I felt our Lord wanted to give me some message
through St. Benedict Joseph Labre. No light came while
praying in the Church or in the house ; but when I went
up to his little room and knelt down a voice seemed to whisper
' Read what is written on the wall.' I saw these words : Dieu
m ' appelle d la vie austere ; il faut que je me prfyare pour
suivre les voies de Dieu.1 With these words came a sudden
light to see how much one gains by every act of sacrifice,

i. — " God calls me to an austere life; I must prepare myself to follow the
ways of God."

INTERIOR UNION 99

that what we give is not lost ; but the enjoyment (increased
a thousand fold) is only postponed. This filled me with
extraordinary consolation which lasted all day."

It will thus be seen that holiness was Fr. Doyle's constant
preoccupation. Though he was human and social as well
as many-sided in his interests, the central realities of his
life were God and his own soul. God was to him no distant
Creator or far-off Judge, He was an ever-present Companion
whose voice he could not mistake, to whom he always turned.
Angels were to him no subtle speculation, nor were the
saints merely historical examples. With childlike simplicity
he spoke to them and strove to learn from them. One looks
in vain among his papers for a doubt or a hint of modern
scepticism. He saw things from within, and he was satisfied ;
he did not just read about religion, he lived it. And so he
lived in our cities of to-day, those great wildernesses of
stone and steel, just as if he had been dwelling in the uplands
of Galilee twenty centuries ago. He passed through life
with the faith of a little child, and thus out into the great
Beyond, still a child, for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven.

(3.) PERSONAL ATTACHMENT TO CHRIST.

" Is it possible," asks a Protestant clergyman, no less a
personage than the late Master of Balliol,1 "is it possible
to feel a personal attachment to Christ such as is prescribed
by Thomas a Kempis ? " "I think," he replies," that it
is impossible and contrary to human nature that we should
be able to concentrate our thoughts on a person scarcely
known to us, who lived eighteen hundred years ago." What
a complacently uttered verdict from one who, with all his
scholarship, never comprehended the inner meaning and
motive-power of priest and nun, aye, and of millions of
suffering toilers who in Christ alone find rest for their souls !
It is precisely this intense personal attachment to Jesus

i. — Abbott and Campbell, Life and Letters of B. fotvett, \\. 151. Contrast
S. Peter (i. i. 8): "Jesus Christ whom having not seen, you love; in whom
.also now, though you see Him not, you believe ; and believing shall rejoice
with joy unspeakable and glorified."

loo FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

that is the key to the life of a man like Fr. Doyle. It was
the driving-force of that chivalrous Spanish hidalgo who,
after winning earthly glory at the siege of Pamplona, hung
up his sword at the shrine of our Lady of Montserrat and
enlisted in the service of the King whose proclamation rang
in his ears : " My will is to conquer the whole world and all
enemies and thus to enter into My Father's glory. Therefore
whoever desires to come with Me must labour with Me, in
order that following Me in pain, he may likewise follow Me
in glory."1 Mecum (with Me) — does not this little word
carry in it the heart of Christianity ? The sacrifices of
religious life are possible because it is life with Christ. The
heroism of Christian charity lives on because it is done for
Christ, with Christ, to Christ. What a measureless volume
of human service has been created by the presence and the
ideal of Christ ! What a burden of human suffering has
been borne with Christ, laid beside the Passion of the Son
of Man, ever since the days when Peter and the apostles
went " rejoicing that they were accounted worthy to suffer
reproach for the name of Jesus." (Acts .5. 41.) To-day,
after twenty centuries, the name of Jesus is still as potent,
and the friendship of Christ is alone able to inspire what is
most sublime and heroic in humanity. Unless we grasp the
ever-living reality of this companionship of Christ, we shall
fail completely to understand the struggles, the ecstasies,
the so-called follies of the saints and of those hidden souls
innumerable of whom the world is not worthy. ' The
consciousness of this friendship of Jesus Christ," writes Mgr.
Benson,2 " is the very secret of the saints. Ordinary men
can live ordinary lives, with little or no open defiance of
God, from a hundred second-rate motives. We keep the
commandments that we may enter into life ; we avoid sin
that we may escape hell ; we fight against worldliness
that we may keep the respect of the world. But no man
can advance three paces on the road of perfection unless
Jesus Christ walks beside him. It is this, then, that gives
distinction to the way of the saint, and that gives him his
apparent grotesqueness too — for what is more grotesque in

i. — Spiritual Exercises, (The Kingdom of Christ), p. 34.
2. — The Friendship of Christ, 1912, p. 10.

PERSONAL ATTACHMENT TO CHRIST joi

the eyes of the unimaginative world than the ecstasy of the
lover ? Commonsense never yet drove a man mad ; it is
commonsense that is thought to characterise sanity ; and
commonsense therefore has never scaled mountains, much
less has it cast them into the sea. But it is the maddening
joy of the conscious companionship of Jesus Christ that has
produced the lovers, and therefore the giants, of history. It is
the developing friendship of Jesus Christ and the Passion that
has inspired those lives, which the world in its dull moods calls
unnatural and the Church in all her moods supernatural.
' This priest/ cried S, Teresa in one of her more confidential
moments with her Lord, ' this priest is a very proper person
to be made a friend of ours.' '

In this respect Fr. Doyle was a true member of the
Company of Jesus. It scarcely needs to be proved that
his whole life was pivoted on love for Christ. Without
some such cardinal passion or absorbing motive, a man will
not devote his life to sacrificing his natural inclinations,
seeking and enduring pain, toiling in gratuitous and often
unrequited service, laying down his life amid nauseating
scenes of carnage.1 Such a life can only be led with Christ,
always mentally and often sacramentally present. At times
Fr. Doyle felt overpowered by the intensity of this love.
" Even as a child," he writes, " I longed and prayed to be
a saint. But somehow it always seemed to me as if that
longing could never be realised, for I felt there was some
kind of a barrier like a high Wall between myself and God.
What it was, I cannot say even now. But recently this
obstacle appears to me to have been removed, the way is
open, and I feel I love Jesus now as I never did before, or
even hoped to. With this comes the conviction, so strong
and consoling with so much peace and happiness, that Jesus
will grant my heart's desire before I die. I dare not put
on paper what I feel, even if I could ; but at times Jesus
seems to pour all the grace of His Sacred Heart upon me
until I am intoxicated almost with His love and could cry
out with the pain of that sweet wounding."

i. — Here is a note jotted down on 22nd April, 1905 : " Work for Jesus ! Yes,
though the weary head may ache and the tired brain refuse to act. Work on,
work on ; the years slip by and soon the hour of toil will cease for ever.
Work for Jesus ! How sweet these words ! Not one effort escapes His watchful
eye and He will reward you with a joy unknown for what you suffer now."

102 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

" I cannot deny," he said on another occasion, " that 1
love Jesus, love Him passionately, love Him with every
fibre of my heart. He knows it, too, since He has asked
me to do many things for Him, which have cost me more
than I should like to say, yet which with His grace were
sweet and easy in a sense. He knows that my longing, at
least, even if the strength and courage are wanting, is to do
and suffer much more for Him, and that were He to-morrow
to ask for the sacrifice of every living friend, I would not
refuse Him. Yet with all that, with the intense longing
to make Him known and loved, I have never yet been able
to speak of Him to others as I want to."

And here is a precious letter in which, forgetting his usual
reserve, he gives an intimate correspondent a glimpse into
the inner fires of his soul. It is dated from the Presentation
Convent, B , 3oth July. 1914.

" What you say is indeed true. Jesus has been ' hunting '
me during these past days, trying to wound my heart with
His arrows of love. He has been so gentle, so patient, tender,
loving, I do not know at times where to turn, and yet I
somehow feel that much of this grace is given me for others,
I know it has helped souls and lifted them close to Jesus.

" I long to get back to my little room at night, to calm
and quiet, and yet I dread it, for He is often so loving there.
I feel He is near because I cannot go to Him in the
Tabernacle. It is such a helpless feeling to be tossed about
as it were on the waves of love, to feel the ardent, burning
love of His Heart, to know He asks for love, and then to
realise one human heart is so tiny.

' Your letter and little meditation have helped me. At
times I have smiled at the folly of what you say since I
realize how little you know of my real character, and then
like a big wave the truth seems to burst on me, that as a
fierce fire sweeps away and consumes all obstacles, so the
love of God blots out the many faults and failings of my
poor life and leaves me free to go to Him.

' The bands are playing in the town below, but the music
in my soul is a thousand times sweeter. ' The Love of
God.' I have one more lecture, some confessions and then —
no you may not come — He wants to be alone with me for

PERSONAL ATTACHMENT TO CHRIST 103

a few brief moments at least that I may pour out on Him
all my love and affection and put my arms around His neck —
my Jesus and my All. Forgive me, child, I am foolish."

Another intimate note tells us how at times his love found
vent in reverently yet affectionately embracing the image

of his crucified Master.1 "I went on to and once

more had an opportunity of a quiet prayer before the life-size
crucifix in the church which I love so much. I could not
remain at His feet but climbed up until both my arms were
around His neck. The Figure seemed almost to live, and
I think I loved Him then, for it was borne in upon me how
abandoned and suffering and broken-hearted He was. It
seemed to console Him when I kissed His eyes and pallid
cheeks and swollen lips, and as I clung to Him, I knew He
had won the victory, and I gave Him all He asked."2

Fr. Doyle's love for Christ was thus not confined to the
cold upper regions of the soul, whither many who walk in
the darkness of faith must relegate it. It was something
which filled his whole being and at times overflowed sensibly.
" Was not our heart burning within us whilst He spoke in
the way ? " exclaimed the two disciples. (S. Luke 24. 32.)
Fr. Doyle was often on the Emmaus road ; Jesus seemed
to speak in the way, and his heart was burning within him.
His emotion then found utterance in loving transports, one
of which was happily put on paper. " I know not why I
am writing this," he says, " except it be to ease my straining
heart, for at times I feel half mad with the love of God."

' Jesus is the most loving of lovable friends — there never
was a friend like Him before, there never can be one to equal
Him, because there is only one Jesus in the whole wide
world and the vast expanse of Heaven, and that sweet and
loving friend, that true lover of the holiest and purest love

i. — This little quotation from a letter of Fr. Doyle's will help to explain his
attitude still further : " The wretched spirit of Jansenism has driven our dear
Lord from His rightful place in our hearts. He longs for love, and familiar

love, so give him both 1 need scarcely say, when others do not see you. . . .

I know a holy soul who never leaves the chapel without kissing the tabernacle
door and walking backward, kissing her hand to the Prisoner of Love."

2. — Compare this from the life of S. Margaret Mary (Paray-le-Monial Life,
Eng. trans., Visitation Library, Walmer, Kent, 1912, pp. 62, 94): " He made
me repose for a long time upon His Sacred Bosom, where He discovered to me
the marvels of His love." " He held me for the space of two or three hours
with my lips pressed to the wound of his Sacred Heart."

104 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

is my Jesus, mine alone and all mine. Every fibre of
His divine nature is thrilling with love for me, every beat
of His gentle Heart is a throb of intense affection for me,
His sacred arms are round me, He draws me to His breast,
He bends down with infinite tenderness over me, His child,
for He knows I am all His, and He is all mine. In His eyes
the vast world, the myriads of other souls have all vanished,
He has forgotten them all, — for that brief moment they do
not exist — for even the infinite love of God Himself is not
enough to pour out on the soul who is clinging so lovingly
to Him.

" O Jesus, Jesus, Jesus ! who would not love You, who
would not give their heart's blood for You, if only once
they realised the depth and the breadth and the realness
of Your burning love ? Why not then make every human
heart a burning furnace of love for You, so that sin would
become an impossibility, sacrifice a pleasure and a joy, virtue
the longing of every soul, so that we should live for love,
dream of love, breathe Your love, and at last die of a broken
heart of love, pierced through and through with the shaft
of love, the sweetest gift of God to man."

Doubtless there are stolid souls who will not appreciate
these emotional outpourings, who regard such fervent
language as mere sentimentalism. It is true, of course,
that such utterances were never meant to be dragged from
their sacred privacy into the cold light of print. But that
is just the beauty of them. They well up spontaneously
from the heart of a strong man, they express the pent up
enthusiasm of this brave soldier of Christ, seeking an uncon
ventional outlet. Fr. Doyle was no sickly sentimentalist or
hysterical weakling. He lived what he felt, and he meant
what he said. Why should we fancy that strength must be
shorn of tenderness ? Why should we think that only
earthly love is privileged to have its delights ? Paul, the
man of action, was accused by some Corinthian converts of
being ' beside himself.' " If we have been beside ourselves,"
he answers, " it was for God ; if we are now in our right
senses, it is for you. For the love of Christ overmasters
us — reflecting that as One died for all, then all were dead ;
and that He died for all, so that the living may no longer

PERSONAL ATTACHMENT TO CHRIST 105

live to themselves but to Him who died for them and rose
again. . . . Hence if any one is in Christ, he is a new
being, his old life has passed away, a new life has begun ! "
{// Cor. 5. 13-17.) Charitas Christi urget nos. Thus wrote
the great Apostle of the Gentiles in a public letter. And
John, " the disciple whom Jesus loved, the one who at the
Supper leant back on His breast " (S. John 21. 20), tells
us that " we know what love is through Christ's having laid
down His life for us " (I John 3. 16.) Has not Jesus Himself
set His seal on the humanness, so to speak, of our relations
with Him ? He will not call us servants but friends.
(S, John 15. 15.) " You are the men who have stood by
Me in My trials " (S. Luke 22. 28), said our Lord to His
Apostles. And He had sorrowfully to add, " Even you will
all be scandalized in Me to-night " (S. Matthew 26. 31.)
Yet as a last appeal He took with Him to His agony His
three favoured friends, whose slumber He then lovingly
excused And as they slept, stretched there beneath the
moonlit olive-trees, was He not comforted, not only by the
angelic messenger, but by the countless faithful ones who
would watch and pray during their ' holy hour/ who,
separated in sequence of time but nigh to His eternal gaze,1
would kneel beside Him and drink His chalice ? And as
His pain-racked form was raised aloft on the Hill of Golgotha,
as His blood-clotted eyes looked down on a sea of mocking
hardened faces, did He not feel the stream of adoring love
which down the centuries was to converge on the Crucified ?
4 'And I. if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all things
to Myself." (S. John 12. 32.) Peter crucified head down
wards, following his Master at last ; Ignatius of Antioch
crying " My Love is crucified " ; the innumerable souls
whose last earthly gaze is fixed on the crucifix ; and every
one of us who has knelt before the image of Christ Crucified,
or made the Stations of the Cross or stood in spirit on Calvary
with Mary, His Mother ; all are joining in reparation to the
Heart of Jesus. Seen in this eternal perspective, is there
not a wondrous and touching reality in Fr, Doyle's climbing

i. — " Holy Father, keep them in Thy name whom Thou hast given Me. . . .
And not for them only do 1 pray, but for them also who through their word
shall believe in Me." — S.John 17. 11, 20.

106 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

up to the life-size crucifix and kissing the pallid face of the
Crucified ? It is just such simple, artless love which discerns
the ever-present significance of the Life of Christ.1

As a pledge of his devotion to Christ and to bind his life
to that of his Master, Fr. Doyle made a vow of consecration
to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, signing his name thereto in
his blood, and thus attesting his dedication of himself to
the service of Him " who hath loved us and washed us from
our sins in His own blood." (Apoc. i. 5.) It was made
during one of those quiet midnight vigils which Fr. Doyle
loved so well and was written by the red glimmer of the
sanctuary lamp.

" Most loving Jesus, kneeling before You in the Blessed
Sacrament, I solemnly consecrate myself to Your Sacred
Heart by vow. I vow always to be Your faithful lover
and to strive every day to grow in Your love. In imitation
of the oblation which B. Margaret Mary made of herself, I
now wish to give myself up absolutely and entirely, without
any reserve whatever, to Your most Sacred Heart, that
You may be free to do with me, to treat me, as You wish,
to send me whatever suffering or humiliation You wish. I
desire to put no obstacle to the action of grace upon my soul,
to be a perfect instrument in Your divine hands, to be Your
victim should You so desire. I want to make this oblation
and immolation of myself to Your Sacred Heart as completely
as possible, and in the manner which You wish me to make
it, O my Jesus. Therefore, again, by this vow, I make a
complete surrender of myself and all I have to You. Do
with me as You will, for from this hour I am wholly Yours

Amen.

Feast of St. Michael, Friday, Sept. 29th, 1910.

Made at Midnight. Signed W. J. DOYLE, S J."

i.— Compare the second contemplation of the Second Week of the Spiritual
Exercises (p. 39) : " The first point is to see the persons ; that is to say, to see
our Lady and St. Joseph and the serving-maid, also the Infant Jesus after His
birth, accounting- myself a poor and unworthy servant, looking at and con
templating them and tending them in their necessities as though I were present
there, with a!! possible homage and reverence." So S. Gertrude : "The day
ot Thine adorable Nativity, I took Thee from the crib, wrapped in swathing-
clothes, like a little infant newly born, and placed Thee in my heart." —Life
and Revelations, London, 1865, p. 100. " Kissing the wounds of Christ " she
used frequently in the day to " pour forth all her griefs into the wounds of her
Lord and find therein all her consolation and all her joy" (p. 231).

PRAYER 107

(4.) PRAYER.

One of Fr. Doyle's favourite devotions was that of the
Holy Hour.1 Long before he became a priest he had made
it faithfully week after week and found it a fruitful source
of grace. Afterwards as a hard-working priest, he contrived
to increase the number of nocturnal visits. " Two years
ago when at Tours," he writes on 22nd Nov., 1914, " I felt
strongly urged to rise and make the Holy Hour every night.
In the past twelve months I have gone down to the chapel
about fifty times, though often only for a few moments ;
this does not include the weekly Holy Hour on Thursday.
Now I feel impelled to rise each night, when at home, at
least for a quarter of an hour." And in April, 1915, he resolved
" to make the Holy Hour each night from ten to eleven
when at home." How he made it may be best gathered
from an entry in his diary under the date ist Sept., 1911.
" Last night," he writes, " while making the Holy Hour in
my room, Jesus seemed to ask me to promise to make it
every Thursday, even when away giving retreats, and when
I cannot go to the chapel, He wants the greater part of the
time to be spent prostrate on the ground, which I find very
painful. I think He wants me to share in His agony during
this hour, feeling a little of the sadness, desolation, and
abandonment He experienced, the shame of sin, the
uselessness of His sufferings to save souls. I begged Him
to plunge my soul into the sea of bitterness which surrounded
Him. It was an hour of pain, but I hope for more."

Fr. Doyle devoted himself to the propagation of this
practice. It was long uphill work, not so much among
holy souls living in the world, very many ot whom adopted
it enthusiastically, as among religious communities, where
innovations progress slowly, even apart from the difficulty
of finding room for a new devotion in an already overcrowded

i. — See above p. 22. A brief", useful and practical account of this devotion,
initiated by S. Margaret Mary Alacoque, will be found in The Holy Jfour, by
J. McDonnell, S.J. (Dublin, Irish Messenger Office). See also the quotation
from S. M. Mary on p. 137. In one of his letters Mgr. d'Hulst defines
devotion to the Sacred Heart as "the holy hour endlessly prolonged." — The
Way of the ffeart(E.ng, trans., 1913), p. 65. The thirteenth century S. Gertrude
often "kept vigil and was occupied with the remembrance of the Lord's
Passion "and was "much fatigued." — Life and Revelations, Eng. tr. 1865, p. 227.

io8 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ

time-table. But the efforts were in many cases crowned
with success. " Our Blessed Lord is at last blessing my
efforts to establish the Holy Hour," wrote Fr. Doyle in 1914.
" Up to this attempts have been more or less of a failure,
but now they have taken it up warmly in all the W. convents.
The Mother Provincial of the X. nuns will push it during
her visitation. Moreover the devotion has been established
with full sanction of the authorities in Y., and will now
spread to the other ten convents there. A letter from Z
yesterday told me that they, too, after three years' wait
had fallen into line." It is scarcely necessary to add that
this propaganda did not always meet with approval or favour.
But it deserves to be recorded that Fr. Doyle was by no means
a blind enthusiast. He quite appreciated local or individual
difficulties. Thus he wrote to a nun in 1911 : "As regards
the Holy Hour I would urge you personally not to make
a practice of staying up every Thursday night. The privation
of sleep tells in the end, and you are not too strong ; and
if you get knocked up, people will say that was the cause
and may even get the Hour forbidden. God likes generosity,
but we must be prudent and not expect Him to work
miracles."

This practice was but one expression of his love for the
Blessed Sacrament.1 Again and again he gives vent to his
eucharistic devotion. " The mad longing for His presence,"
he writes, "is at times overpowering. It would be hard
to describe how He chains me to Him, the magnetic attraction,
the more than physical force that drags me to the Tabernacle,
and then the pain with which I realize at His feet how small
and feeble the human heart is to give Him a love worthy
of His." He spent every spare moment in church or chapel ;
and since spare moments grew scarcer as the years went
on, he laid the hours of sleep under contribution On some
feast days, such as that of Corpus Christi, he contrived to
spend, at intervals, as much as seven hours before the Blessed
Sacrament. But besides his want of leisure in the daytime,
he had a special love for vigil before the Tabernacle. Prayer
was easier in the quiet stillness of the night, he was free

i. — He became a Knight of the Blessed S;tcrament on ist January, 19:7, at
Locre in Belgium, where he was military chaplain.

PRAYER 109

to express outwardly the longings of his heart, and last
but not least, he liked nocturnal prayer because it was hard.
To rise when one awakes, or to set one's alarum for midnight,
and creep down to the chapel, even were it only for a few
minutes, is no slight act of mortification. Still more heroic
is the cheating oneself of the sleep earned after a hard day's
work. Fr. Doyle did not ever find this easy. In his Retreat
of September 1915, he records : "A greater urging to spend
every available moment with Him and to try to practise
nocturnal adoration oftener ; ' every night ' Jesus says, but
I am too cowardly and too fearful of my health. Would
He not help me if I tried ? "l

It was while he was on the mission that he most keenly
felt his inability to visit our Lord at night, it was then that
he realised how much a domestic chapel means. " I never
knew/' runs a letter of his, " how much Jesus in the Taber
nacle enters our lives as religious, till I had to live for weeks
in houses where He was absent. I manage to make the Holy
Hour each week, though I have to wait till all are asleep
before I can steal out to the chapel, sometimes a couple of
miles away."

Later on when stationed in England as military chaplain
he wrote2 : ' There is one thing I cannot, (I almost wrote
' will not '), bear, the loss of our dearest Lord. It is bitterly
hard to have to live day after day without His presence
except for a few moments each morning during Mass, which
only makes things harder still, for I am left hungering for
Him for twenty-four hours. I have found a tiny chapel
some miles from here, but I can seldom get there. The
thought of Jesus in that lonely Tabernacle haunts me always,
and at night I seem to hear Him calling gently and sadly.
Oh ! how I wish I could go to Him through the mud and
rain." A month later (January 1916) he writes : ' We
came here (Bordon Camp) in awful rain and wind, but on

i.- — Obviously, such nocturnal prayer requires discretion and guidance.
" It is incredible," says S. Francis de Sales, " how dangerous long night vigils
are and how much they weaken the brain. It is not felt during youth ; but it
comes to be felt so much the more afterwards, and many persons have rendered
themselves useless in this way." — Letters to Persons in Religion, Eng. trans.
(Mackay), 1901,8 p. 68 (cf. p. 43). See also the loth Addition to the First
Week of the Exercises.

2. — See also p. 217.

no FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

reaching the barracks, the first thing I saw were the words :
' R. C. Hut.' Thinking it was just the empty hut for Sunday
Mass, and yet half-hoping, I opened the door to find a
beautifully furnished little chapel with the red lamp that
told me all. I think I now know what Mary felt when she
found her Son in the temple. How I thanked Him for this
gift, for His goodness in sending my regiment to camp about
His dwelling ! His goodness did not stop there, for without
asking him, the priest in charge gave me the key, so that
I can come to Jesus at any time. I am very happy now,
for I have Him, Deus meus et omnia1 — all else cannot supply
His place — and life seems quite changed."

Even when serving at the Front, his thoughts turned to
nocturnal prayer and adoration. Here is an entry dated
25th October, 1916 : " Jesus has long urged me to give Him
a whole night of prayer and reparation. Last night I prayed
in my dug-out at Kemmel from 9 till 5 (eight hours), most
of the time on my knees. I bound myself beforehand to
do so by vow in order not to let myself off. Though I had
only two hours' sleep, I am not very tired or weary to-day.
Jesus wants more of these nights of prayer, adoration and
atonement."

Thus this true follower of the Prince of Peace pursued
his calm inner life amid the scenes and sounds of human
strife, kneeling in his dug-out and adoring his eucharistic
Lord in the pyx as quietly and devotedly as if he were in the
domestic chapel of Rathfarnham Castle. Two months before
his death he notes (2ist June, 1917) : " Jesus told me to-day
that the work of regeneration and sanctification is to be
done by leading souls to Him in the Blessed Sacrament."
And on 2nd July he records : ' The conviction has been
growing that nocturnal adoration will be established only
if I spend much time myself before the Blessed Sacrament
at night. I know well that Jesus not only wants me to
sacrifice much of my sleep, but also to rise sometimes during
the night to adore and console Him in the Tabernacle. The
repugnance (and yet attraction) to this is extraordinary."

It will be clear from such an admission that Fr. Doyle's

i. — " My God and All " aspiration of S. Francis of Assisi. (Fioreiti 2 }

PRAYER in

devotion to the Real Presence was quite compatible with
dryness, drowsiness and discomfort. In advice once sent
to another he gives us the secret of his own devotion to
his sacramental Lord. " Real devotion to the Blessed
Sacrament," he writes, " is only to be gained by hard, grinding
work of dry adoration before the Hidden God. But such a
treasure cannot be purchased at too great a cost, for once
obtained, it makes of this life as near an approach to heaven
as we can ever hope for."

Although grace worked very effectively and appreciably
in his soul, it never dispensed him from ' hard, grinding
work.' Even in the case of that interior union which seemed
to be so spontaneously natural in Fr. Doyle, we can from
his diary perceive how slow, painful and methodic were the
means which he took to acquire and perfect such union.
During his retreat of January 1913 he wrote : " I feel drawn
still more to the life of interior union. To acquire this I
must practise the following : —

(1) Constant and profound recollection.

(2) To keep my thoughts always if possible centred on

Jesus in my heart.

(3) To avoid worry and anxiety about future things.

(4) To avoid useless conversation.

(5) Great guard over my eyes, not reading or looking

at useless things."

So, even in regions generally called mystic, he proceeded
in that clear, systematic, one might say businesslike, way
so characteristic of St. Ignatius.1 No vague yearnings
after sublimities or ecstasies, no anxiety for the abnormal
or singular, just a quiet persevering fidelity in small things
and an unflinching determination to avail of those countless
opportunities with which each day is strewn. To use an
expressive phrase, St. Ignatius wishes us in our spiritual
life to come to the point ; he will have no pious generalities ;
no beating about the bush. In my meditation I am " to
reflect in order to derive some fruit " ; in my prayer I am
" to ask of God our Lord that which I wish and desire."
Above all, I must, according to St. Ignatius, specialise, I
must concentrate on some special defects, needs, or devotions.

i. — See above p. 34.

H2 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

And this concentration necessarily implies an increase in
self-conscious purpose, a growth in deliberate mental self-
control. Thus to eradicate some special sin or fault, St.
Ignatius suggests " that each time a person falls into that
particular sin or defect he lays his hand on his breast,
repenting that he has fallen ; and he can do this even in the
presence of many people without their perceiving it." More
over he wants us to write down twice a day the number of
times we have fallen ; he will not have us merely enter the
total number, the faults must be represented graphically by
parallel rows of points, so that we can at a glance compare
day with day and week with week. Such is the spiritual
accountancy of the writer of the Spiritual Exercises? who
wishes us to apply to our souls the minute care with which
business men keep their ledgers. Not everyone, of course,
could or should literally follow all these details on every
point ; but there is in them an elemental method of the
human mind, which we altogether neglect only at the peril
of lapsing into unpractical dreaming, vague sentimentalism,
and perhaps serious self-delusion.2

This incisive, one might say militant, method of spirituality
appealed very much to the fervent heart and chivalrous
courage of Fr. Doyle. He believed in marshalling all his
forces for the immediate present, in concentrating his energies
on the holiness attainable here and now. In this strain he
writes on the Feast of the Blessed Cure of Ars, 4th August,
1913 : " Making my meditation before the picture of the
Blessed, he seemed to say to me with an interior voice : The
secret of my life was that / lived for the moment. I did not
say, ' I must pray here for the next hour,' but only ' for
this moment.' I did not say, ' I have a hundred confessions
to hear/ but looked upon this one as the first and last. I did
not say, ' I must deny myself everything and always,' but
only ' just this once.' By this means I was able always to
do everything perfectly, quietly and in great peace. Try

i. — Particular Exanien (pp. i3f. ) Subsequently this same method was
extended to recording positive acts of virtue, instead of merely marking
defects.

2. — Pere Ginhac once surprised his superior, who was confessing1 to him, by
the unexpected query: "And what about your particular examen? Do you
make it properly? What is the subject of it?" — A Man After God's Own Heart,
p. 282.

PRAYER 113

and live this life of the present moment. Pray as if you
had nothing else whatever to do ; say your Office slowly
as if for the last time ; do not look forward and think you
must often repeat this act of self-denial. This will make
all things much easier." Two years later we find a similar
entry : " No sacrifice would be great if looked at in this
way. I do not feel now the pain which has past, I have
not yet to bear what is coming ; hence I have only to endure
the suffering of this one moment, which is quickly over and
cannot return."

It was especially by momentary recollection and ejaculatory
prayer that Fr. Doyle sought to sanctify the passing moment
and to condense perfection into the immediate present. When
he was tempted to break a resolution, or when he shrank
from some sacrifice, he used to say five times to himself,
" Will you refuse to do this for the love of Jesus ? " By
means of aspirations he sharpened his will into instant action
and brought into play all the accumulated motive-power
of the past. " This morning," he writes in his diary (Sept.
1915), " I lay awake powerless to overcome myself and to
make my promised visit to the chapel. Then I felt prompted
to pray ; I said five aspirations and rose without difficulty.
How many victories I could win by this easy and powerful
weapon ! " Indeed he had a wonderful idea of the value
of aspirations as a source of grace and merit. " Great light
at meditation," he writes, " on the value of one aspiration.
If I knew I should receive £i for each one I made, I would
not waste a spare moment. And yet I get infinitely more
than this, though I often fail to realise it." During the last
few years of his life Fr. Doyle's conviction of the value of
aspirations steadily grew ; and with him to believe was to
act.1 The number of aspirations which he contrived to
fit into one day advanced from 10,000 to over 100,000. This
latter astounding figure was reached while he was actually
engaged in the arduous duties of military chaplain at the

i . — The following aspirations, jotted down in one of Fr. Doyle's notebooks,
seem to have been favourites of his : (i) My Crucified Jesus, help me to crucify
myself. (2) Lord, teach me how to pray and pray always. (3) Jesus, Thou
Saint of saints, make me a saint. (4) Blessed be God for all things. (5) My
loving Jesus within my heart, unite my heart to Thee. (6) Heart of Jesus, give
me Your zeal for souls. (7) My God, Thou art omnipotent, make me a saint.

U4 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

Front. As he never revealed this to anyone and as the
achievement seems rather incredible/ it will be well to extract
from his diaries and to give here the references and resolutions
concerning aspirations. These, it should be remembered,
were written solely for his own use.1

" I felt urged to-day to make an effort to reach 10,000
aspirations each day ; if I fall short, to make up the number
at another time. This would mean three and a half million
acts in the year. How much grace and holiness that would
mean ! I have so much lost time to make up." (2ist
Sept., 1911.)

" During a visit to D I made a strong resolution,

cost what it may, every day to make 10,000 ejaculations
(since increased to 12,000). I have never realised before
so clearly how much I was losing by not doing so." (22nd
April, 1912.)

" Novena to Blessed Cure* d' Ars. Resolved to bear small
pains and make 20,000 aspirations." (26th July, 1913.)

" Constant urging of Jesus to make every effort to reach
20,000 aspirations daily." (i8th July, 1914.)

" 25,000 aspirations ; if possible, 10,000 before lunch."
(Resolution on New Year's Day, 1915.)

" I made a vow, in honour of Soeur Therese, for the rest
of my life to make every day 10,000 aspirations, unless
sick." (3rd March, 1915.)

" Jesus said to me : ' You must make your life a martyrdom
of prayer.' This means that I must give every spare moment
to aspirations etc. — generously banishing idle thoughts in
which I indulge so much — trying to make 50,000 daily
I must also increase very much the time I spend in the
chapel." (ist May, 1916.)

" Feast of the Seven Dolours. Said Mass in St. Colette's
home at Corbie. While visiting the chapel where she was a

i. — The following typical figures, giving the number of recorded daily
aspirations at different periods, are taken from the booklets wherein Fr. Doyle
made such entries: 1,300, Jan. 1909; 2,000, May 1909; 3,000, Oct. 1909;
4,000, Nov. 1910; 5,000, Jan. 1911; 6,000, July 1911; 10,000, Sept. 1911;
15,000, May 1912 ; 20,000, Aug. 1913; 60,000, Oct. 1914; 90,000, Nov. 1914.
These figures give aome of the actual numbers recorded at his daily exam
ination. That the task was not easy is shown by his many relapses and the
constant resolutions he made. See his first extant resolution, made during'
the Long Retreat, p. 62. See reference to aspirations in letter, p. 267.

PRAYER 115

recluse for four years, again I felt most strongly urged to
make the 50,000 aspirations the penance of my life, and to
force myself, no matter at what cost, to get through them
daily. I have made this resolve : that if this is impossible,
I will make up the number later on." (i5th Sept., 1916.)

" It seemed to me that it would please our Lord to try
and make up for all the aspirations I might have made during
the early years of my religious life. At the rate of 10,000
a day for 15 years this would amount to fifty-four million.
I have promised Him to pay this back, counting anything
over the usual 50,000 aspirations each day. It is a huge
amount to face, but with His grace I shall accomplish my
task, more especially as I have proved it is possible to do
100,000 daily with a little energy and courage. If He
preserves my life during this war, I must work with might
and main for Him in gratitude. This grace I owe to my
darling Mother Mary, who has put this thought into my
mind to-day, Saturday." (2nd Nov., 1916.)

"Again a clear interior light that God wants me to aim
at the 100,000 aspirations daily. I feel a longing to take
up this life of unceasing prayer and at the same time a dread
and a loathing of this burden, for I must watch every spare
minute of the day to perform my penance. I feel Jesus
asks this in reparation for His priests. With the help of
our Blessed Lady I have this day begun the big fight." (i3th
Dec., 1916.)

" The conviction is steadily growing stronger that I am
doing what God wants specially from me by making the
100,000 aspirations. I have not experienced much trouble
in doing so for the past twelve days." (ist January, 1917.)

" I find I am falling off in the 100,000 aspirations. Have
bound myself for a week by vow to make the full number,
(ist Feb., 1917.)

" I have made a bargain with our Lord to give me a soul
for every 1,000 aspirations made over the daily 100,000."
(i3th Feb... 1917.)

Thus we learn from these intimate confessions that
Fr. Doyle regarded this practice as the penance of his life,
that he had to watch every spare minute of the day to
perform this penance, that it was a burden for which he

Ii6 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

felt dread and loathing, and that nevertheless he was
ultimately able " with a little energy and courage " to make
a hundred thousand aspirations in the day. How he accom
plished this marvellous feat must remain something of a
psychological mystery, for we have no further evidence or
details. It is clear that he thus utilised every spare moment ;
whenever he was waiting for someone, whenever he was
travelling alone or even passing along the house, he occupied
himself in saying his beads or in ejaculatory prayer. But
even at the rate of fifty aspirations a minute it would take
over thirty-three hours to make a hundred thousand
ejaculations. It would seem then that by aspiration
Fr. Doyle meant not so much a form of words (e.g. an
indulgenced prayer), as a turning of the mind to God, a heart
beat of love, a lightning-flash of the soul. In this way,
perhaps, he was able to turn his every movement and activity
into a deliberate expression of love for Christ.1 In a retreat
to priests he pointed out that the ordinary Office contained
about 12,000 words ; and it is very probable that he himself
regarded -each word devoutly said as an aspiration. Only
in this way can we explain the possibility of what he did.
We must also be content with guessing at his method of
counting. Probably certain duties such as Mass, Office and
Rosary were reckoned at some numerical value corresponding
to the average words contained. And the remaining
aspirations were perhaps counted with the help of a
' watch ' — a little instrument sometimes used by missioners
for numbering confessions. The significance of this definite
recording of the number of aspirations etc., does not lie so
much in the heroic extreme to which he ultimately carried
it, for this is a personal development largely inapplicable
to others of a different type of mind. Its importance consists
rather in the fact, which we must not leave unnoticed, that
it was by this simple Ignatian device that he succeeded in
initially acquiring the habit. In September 1910, during
his retreat, he chronicles a failure which will be an encouraging

i. — Compare the advice of S. Francis de Sales: "Do all things for God,
making or continuing- your union by simple turning of your eyes or outflowing
of your heart towards Him." — Letters to Persons infjteligion, Eng. trans. 1901,
P- 355-

PRAYER 117

lesson to us. ' The great defect in my character," he says,
" and chief reason why I make so little progress is my want
of fidelity. Thus in the past eighteen months I have not
marked the ejaculations and acts of self-denial over three
hundred times, which means that on these days I did none."
A conclusion which is surely too severe, but which at least
shows us the efficacy of ' marking ' our incipient efforts.

Fr. Doyle was naturally a zealous advocate of this practice
for others. " There is nothing," he said in a letter, " there
is nothing better than the practice of aspirations, steadily
growing in number. Keep a little book and enter them once
a day. ... I would like you to keep count of these
little acts like the aspirations, but don't go too fast ; build
up and do not pull down." He realised, of course, — though
perhaps not sufficiently clearly in one or two cases — that the
systematic piling up of aspirations to reach an arithmetically
defined goal might be extremely unsuitable to many minds.
His views were, in fact, very prudent and tolerant. This
is advice which he gave in February 1912 : "As to any
practice of piety there is a double danger : recommending
it as infallible, or condemning it as useless. I always make
a point of saying that all things are not for all people.
Characters differ so much. . . . My own experience, and
that of many others, is that the beads for marking aspirations
are an invaluable help ; for if there is not a definite number
of acts marked or counted somehow, you will very soon
find that very few are done. I think you have found the
benefit of counting twenty acts of self-denial ; so if you
like, do the same for aspirations, increasing slowly, not too
many at first — and no straining." "As regards counting
the aspirations," he similarly wrote to another penitent in
July 1914, " if you really find that it is a strain on your tired
head, give up the practice."

It is indeed perfectly obvious that beyond a certain total —
say forty or fifty a day — this arithmetical application of the
Ignatian method to aspirations, or other acts of virtue,
will in normal cases produce very injurious results. Any
unnatural strain or tension will ruin that cheerful spontaneity
and elastic freshness which is so essential to religious life.
Moreover, an undue stress on the merely numerical aspect

1X8 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

of prayer may lead to a serious depreciation of more important
qualities. How we pray is a far more vital problem than
how much we pray ; intensity is preferable to extension.
" When you are praying, speak not much as the heathens ;
for they think that in their much speaking they may be
heard." (5. Matthew 6. 7.) There is a spiritual lesson for
us, too, in that exquisite little scene of Jesus sitting down
and watching the people putting their offerings into the
temple-chests. He made no comment on the many generous
donors who came ; but when a poor widow came with her
two farthings— surely the Master was waiting for her — He
called His disciples to teach them a new principle of valuation,
as applicable to the spiritual as to the material life. The
widow's contribution was the highest in God's sight, because
" she of her want cast in all she had, even her whole living."
(S. Mark 12. 44.) Jesus is still sitting nigh and watching
as we make our offerings. We may not be able to pray or
do much, but if we in our want cast in all we have, even our
whole living, if what little we give is given wholeheartedly,
we need not fear the judgement of Him who cherishes the
mites of the weak.

It is well to realise this qualitative aspect of prayer, because,
as in the case of Fr. Doyle, the counting is purely secondary.
As has already been remarked, what he meant by an
aspiration was not necessarily a form of words, it was a
movement of the soul. And in enumerating his aspirations
he did not mean to fill his life with a series of discontinuous
and separate acts, but rather to make this succession of
little impulses melt into one continuous note of heaven's
music. His ideal was not so much formal prayer as an
uninterrupted pray erf ulness. No doubt, Fr. Doyle, partly
out of a desire for mortification, hammered out his enormous
burden of aspirations with a degree of strenuous endurance
which would have left most people limp and prostrate. Here
precisely is the personal element which we must carefully
avoid unthinkingly transferring into our own lives. And
perhaps — for we know but little — perhaps we are really
exaggerating the violence or the numerical precision of his
efforts ? At any rate he himself often advised his spiritual
children to cultivate rather a habitual conviction of God's

PRAYER 119

nearness, an effortless restful sense of companionship. These
are two typical extracts from such letters :

" I think our Lord wants your whole day to be one
continued act of love and union with Him in your heart,
which has no need of words to express it. Your attitude
ought to be that of the mother beside the cot of her babe,
lost in love and tenderness, but saying nothing, just letting
the heart speak, though the wee one cannot know it as Jesus
does. There is nothing more sanctifying than this life,
which few, I fear, reach to, since it means a constant effort
to bring back our wandering imagination."

" By all means follow the guidance of the Holy Spirit
and do not bind yourself to anything which you find a
hindrance. Just let yourself ' sink into God ' when in His
presence. Don't try to pray in words, but love Him — which,
of course, is the highest prayer — and then abandon yourself
to His pleasure, whether that be consolation or darkness.
In the matter of prayer always try to follow the
attraction of the Holy Spirit. . . . Try to keep our
divine Lord company in your heart all day long, thinking
of Him within you — a union which will bring you many
graces and make His presence much more real."

This advice about prayer, this emphasis on the end in
view, rather than on the precise mode, will serve further to
show us that Fr. Doyle's detailed calculations and daily
records were simply means to the end, psychological devices
suitable to his own mind and justifying themselves by their
success. He kept a special series of little books, his soul's
account books one might call them, wherein he noted not
only aspirations but mortifications in minute detail, column
after column of figures. How literally and carefully he
observed the Master's precept : " Trade till I come "" !
(S. Luke 19. 13.) How ready he must have been when the
great Auditor came and the account was closed ! One
cannot but. handle with reverence these booklets with their
eloquent figures summing up years of faithful service and
hidden struggle. Are they not transcribed in the Book of
Life wherein our lives are written ? Has not every tiny
act or inspiration been adjudicated upon and perpetuated
into an eternal worth ?

120 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.'j.

But as this spiritual book-keeping is suited to very few, it
has seemed wise even to risk being irritatingly insistent in
directing the reader's attention to what is permanent and
universal in this method, apart from special developments
adapted to individual cases. What is essential in this
Jgnatian method is to pin oneself down to a definite,
enumerable or verifiable, achievement ; to aim not at good-
,ness in general but this much goodness here and now ; and
not only to resolve but to examine, to look back as well as
forward ; to record objectively the results of these
experiments in the laboratory of one's own soul. These
are broad principles, not so much of spirituality as of
psychology ; and within their amplitude there is plenty of
room for individuality and initiative.

One or two further examples from Fr. Doyle's diary will
help to bring out the intensely practical and definite way
in which spiritual emotions and resolutions can be sharpened
and applied. His Long Retreat resolutions have already
been given. This is how he comments on them at a later
stage (January, 1909) : " Reading over my reflections and
resolutions on the Third Degree during the Long Retreat, I
see now they are little more than empty promises ; they have
produced no real change in my life. I put before myself
• always to choose the hard thing, to go against self in all
things.' But have I really done so since ? Has my life
been more mortified from the time I made this resolution ?
Now, however, I am fully resolved no longer to ' beat the
air,' but have drawn up a list of definite acts of self-denial
by which I can test myself. If only I am faithful to these,
I shall indeed have begun to lead a new and better life
than formerly." And again in September 1911 he writes :
" The proposed vow has been in my mind constantly as
if our Lord was determined that I should not escape even
if I wished to do so. I see the need of it, in order to brace
my weak yielding nature. In previous retreats I have made
many generous resolutions, e.g. to seek my constant morti
fication in all things. But these have never really been
kept for any length of time. I must henceforth leave no
loophole for escape." There speaks the true Ignatian spirit
of determination to bring high ideals down to concrete definite

PRAYER 121

and feasible applications, to condense generalities into
accessible facts.

This refusal to take refuge in vague emotions, this
persistence in reducing oneself to the test of daily and hourly
achievement, is also illustrated by " the book of little
victories " which Fr. Doyle began in 1915. In this he entered
one by one the acts of self-conquest and virtue which he
performed, making sure that no day would be blank. Here,
for instance, are a few of the entries for April : " Morning
discipline. Paper not read. Rose at night. Finished Office,
very tired and sick. Slept on floor. Hour's visit to B S.
Hair-shirt. No fire. Made Holy Hour. Did not take
sugar. Denied eyes several times. Wore waist chain."
And so on, day after day. To those who indulge in pious
velleities and general resolutions, this stream of precise
applications may seem like a cold douche ; but it is
exceedingly healthy. On I3th June he pasted in his book
a little picture of our Lady of Victories, and once more began
the succession of daily victories, a veritable stream of bullets
with himself as target. " Slept on the floor. No relief in
small sufferings. Put on chain in bad humour. Violent
temptation to eat cake and resisted several times. Two
hours' prayer when weary. Rose for visit at two. Unkind
story kept back. Overcame desire to lie in bed." Enough
has now been quoted to illustrate the severely practical and
methodical way in which Fr. Doyle aimed at holiness. There
is here no question of impossible arithmetic, no head-splitting
efforts at enumeration. Just a grim pertinacity of daily
effort at reducing to practice some of the high ideals which
a less systematic person would allow to evaporate. This,
whether applied to prayer or to self-denial, is characteristic
of Jesuit spirituality.1 As a matter of fact, many of the
entries just cited refer more to self-denial than to prayer.
In the next chapter we shall review in detail this aspect of
Fr. Doyle's inner life.

/. — Compare St. Ignatius's saying : " Love ought to be found in deeds rather
than words." — Contemplation for obtaining- Love, Spiritual Exercises, p. 74.

122 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

CHAPTER VII.
MORTIFICATION AND SUFFERING

(i.) SELF-CONQUEST.

WHEN long years ago," once wrote Fr. Doyle, " I asked
our Blessed Lord to make me a saint, cost what
it might, I did not realise what even a small
part of that cost would be. I have never regretted my
compact, nor do I now, though I am half afraid God has
forgotten His part of the bargain, the process of sanctification
has been so slow. As time goes on, I see more clearly that
God wants from me a life that consists mainly of two things,
prayer and penance. Never-ceasing prayer, in spite of the
natural weariness and disgust which often come, kneeling
rather than in any other posture ; but above all, prayer at
night in imitation of His all-night prayer, and when possible,
nocturnal adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. Joined to
prayer must be a life of penance, interior first of all, otherwise
such a life would be a delusion. But I must by no means
stop short at interior penance. Jesus seems to stretch out
His bleeding Hands to me, imploring for more than that,
for penance almost merciless in its severity."

We have already glimpsed some of the secrets of his
prayer, we must now illustrate his spirit of penance. In his
Spiritual Exercises1 St. Ignatius tells us that " exterior
penances are used chiefly for three purposes : first, as a
satisfaction for past sins ; secondly, in order to overcome
oneself, that is to say, in order that sensuality may be obedient
to reason and all that is inferior be more subjected to the
superior ; thirdly, in order to seek and find some grace or
gift which a person wishes for and desires." For ordinary
cases this is an adequate explanation of exterior mortification,
under which term must be included not only the voluntary

i. — Notes to the Additions of the First Week, (p. 31). This is taken from
S. Thomas, Summa, 2, 2, q 147, a i.

SELF-CONQUEST 123

infliction of pain and fasting or abstinence, but also every
deliberate exterior act of self-denial, were it only the restraint
of curiosity, the conquering of lassitude or perserverance in
an uncongenial duty. There are many good and holy souls
who have never dreamt of taking a discipline or wearing a
hair-shirt ; yet asceticism is not wanting to their lives.
Indeed, there is always a danger lest unusual penances may
be undertaken in a spirit of self-will and vanity, to the
detriment of that safest and most hidden of all morti
fications — the persevering perfection of common life. St.
Teresa, evidently writing from personal knowledge, describes
with gentle irony those religious who delight in self-imposed
penance and neglect the divinely imposed penance of rules
and daily duties. "It is amusing (she says1 ) to see the
mortifications with which some of their own accord afflict
themselves. Sometimes there seizes them a fit of immoderate
and indiscreet penance, which lasts for about two days.
The devil then suggests to their imagination that such morti
fications injure them. So they never again do penance —
not even what the rules of the order enjoin — as they have
found that mortification does them harm ; and they do
not observe even the least injunctions of the rule, such as
silence, which cannot do us any harm. And as soon as we
fancy that we have a headache, we refrain from going to
choir — though this will hardly kill us. One day we omit
going because our head aches, the next because it did ache,
and three more days we keep away lest it should ache ! We
love to invent penances of our own."

These practical remarks remind us of what homely stuff
the garment of holiness is spun. Often when we read the
lives of the saints we are apt to lose the real perspective.
Unconsciously singling out the special graces and extra
ordinary sufferings, we pay insufficient attention to the
continuous background of minor physical ills, commonplace
disappointments and petty annoyances, which loom so large
in our seemingly ordinary lives, but which so often escape
the chronicler and reader of the lives of the saints. Yet
God never exempts even chosen souls therefrom, for it is
precisely in this subjection to these general laws of providence

i. — Way of Perfection, ch. 10.

124 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

that human goodness is to be attained. "Alas, my sovereign
Lord," complained Saint Margaret Mary,1 " why dost
Thou not leave me in the common way of the daughters of
Holy Mary ? Hast Thou brought me into Thy holy house
to destroy me ? Give Thy extraordinary graces to those
chosen souls who will correspond with them better than
I do, for I only resist Thee. All I wish for is Thy love and
Thy cross ; that suffices for me to become a good religious
and that is all I desire." Thus^ these gratuitous favours
are not only not sought for, but in no wise dispense the
recipient from those general conditions and limitations
which are so wondrously exemplified even in the life of
Christ. Most of His earthly existence He spent as a village
artisan ; often He was footsore, weary and hungry ; He
was misunderstood even by those nearest to Him, He felt
disappointment and, humanly speaking, failure. So too in
the case of even His most faithful followers the rapturous
glory of Thabor is but a transitory illumination of lives
spent in obscure Nazareth-like drudgery or in a toilsome
thankless mission. Saint Margaret Mary, for all her
graces, had as a novice to mind the monastery donkeys ;
nor did God's providence prevent a windlass from hitting
her in the jaw and smashing her teeth.2 What was probably
still harder, she had to suffer from the misunderstanding of
holy people ; her directors regarded her as a visionary, her
sisters opposed what they considered a new-fangled
devotion.3

It has ever been thus in the lives of those who have striven
to follow Christ. " Whosoever does not carry his own cross
and walk in My steps, can be no disciple of Mine." (5. Luke
14. 27.) This cross-carrying, however, is not a public
procession, drawing tears from the onlooking daughters of

\.~Life of Blessed Margaret Mary Alacoque, published in French by the
Monastery of the Visitation of Paray-le-Monial, Eng. trans. 1912 (Visitation
Library, Roselands, Walmer, Kent), p. 60.

2. — Ibid. pp. 387, 127. Compare also the "tiny little things" which So2ur
Therese offered to our Lord : the annoyance of a bead-rattling sister, the
.splashing' of an awkward neighbour in the laundry. — Sceur The'rese . . .
Histoire d'une dmt>, pp. 195!'; Eng. trans. ( The Little Flower ), pp. 206-208.

3. — Ibid. pp. 77, 152 f. Compare Mgr. d'Hulst's remarks (Vie de la 7'/«.
Marie-Te"ri>se du Caeur dej&us, 1917,16 p. 161) : "At all times saints have caused
suffering to saints." So the Cure of Ars was even preached against by his
fellow-priests. — Monnin, Life of the B. Cnn! d' Ars, (Burns & Gates, n.d.) p. 136.

SELF-CONQUEST 125

Jerusalem ; it is a silent drama enacted in the private theatre
of the human heart. And, as a rule, the cross is not a huge
visible structure, plainly recognisable and easily reminiscent
of Christ ; rather is it doled out to us piecemeal, in mere
matches and sawdust as it were, in tiny fragments wherein
only the eye of loving faith can discern the lineaments of
Calvary.

This truth must not be forgotten while reading this
chapter. For it is easy to chronicle what is out of the
ordinary, and it is only the abnormal and artificial that is
usually committed to writing ; whereas the real annals of
self-conquest and sufferings are garnered only by the recording
angels. We shall meet, in the case of Fr. Doyle, many
proofs of persevering and deliberately sought mortification,
and even of heroic self-immolation. But this must not blind
us to the fact that, beneath this self-imposed apparatus of
suffering, there was in his life, as in ours, a continuous layer
of petty troubles, pains, discomforts, annoyances, disappoint
ments, mistakes, misunderstandings. These are God-given
and have first claim on us ; to shirk these and to seek out
artificially constructed suffering, like those nuns gently
satirised by S. Teresa, is to build the house of holiness on
sand. So while we are picturing the spiritual edifice raised
by Fr. Doyle, let us not forget the foundation whereon it
was based. " We love to invent penances of our own,"
says the great Carmelite, alluding to those fervent souls
whose vain ambition it is to erect castles in the air. That
Fr. Doyle was not one of such, is obvious to those who knew
him intimately. It would indeed be true to say that his
greatest suffering in life did not consist at all in what is set
down in this chapter, but rather in those limitations and
disabilities, mistakes and misinterpretations, individually
perhaps petty but collectively severe. This is probably
true for every life as lived, though not as written ; it is
just as true of the saints as of ordinary folk, though not
every saint has expressed the truth with the blunt precision
of S. John Berchmans : " My greatest mortification is
common life."

At any rate, whether we invent penances or whether we
confine ourselves to the acceptance of those for which God

126 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

provides endless opportunities, penance we must do, if we
wish to deny ourselves, to take up our cross and to follow
Christ. The spirit of our time is delicate and squeamish
and hypersensitive ; the avoidance of pain and discomfort
has become a veritable science as well as an industry. Perhaps
there is even a tendency to seek anaesthetics in the spiritual
life or to look for easy modes of conveyance along the royal
road of the cross ! But the words of Christ still ring true :
""Amen, amen, I say to you, unless the grain of wheat falling
into the ground die, itself remaineth alone ; but if it die,
it bringeth forth much fruit. He that loveth his life shall
lose it ; and he that hateth his life in this world, keepeth
it unto life eternal." (5. John 12. 24.) These words not
only convey a mysterious law of the spiritual world, but
enunciate a truth perceptible by natural reason. Indeed,
has not a great American psychologist, regarding the matter
from the purely natural standpoint, written what is practically
a panegyric of the Ignatian agere contra ? Thus writes
William James : " As a final practical maxim, relative to
these habits of the will, we may, then, offer something like
this : Keep the faculty of effort alive in you by a little gratuitous
exercise every day. That is, be systematically ascetic or
heroic in little unnecessary points ; do every day or two
something for no other reason than that you would rather
not do it : so that, when the hour of dire need draws nigh,
it may find you not unnerved and untrained to stand the
test. Asceticism of this sort is like the insurance which a
man pays on his house and goods. The tax does him no
good at the time, and possibly may never bring him a return.
But, if the fire does come,, his having paid it will be his
salvation from ruin. So with the man who has daily inured
himself to habits of concentrated attention, energetic volition,
and self-denial in unnecessary things. He will stand like
a tower when everything rocks round him, and when his
softer fellow-mortals are winnowed like chaff in the blast."1

As we read over these words, we realise their perfect
aptness to Fr. Doyle. He was systematically ascetic or
heroic in little unnecessary points ; every day he did many
things for no other reason than that he would rather not

i. — James, Principles of Psychology i. 126.

SELF-CONQUEST 127

do them ; so that, when the hour of need and big-scale
heroism drew nigh, it did not find him unnerved and untrained
to stand the test.1 For most assuredly he was a man who
daily inured himself to habits of concentrated attention,
energetic volition, "and self-denial in unnecessary things.
" Other souls may travel by other roads," he once wrote,
" the road of pain is mine." He developed a positive
ingenuity in discovering possibilities of denying himself.
Thus he was always striving to bear little sufferings and
physical discomforts — were it only the irritation of a gnat —
without seeking relief ; he tried to imagine that his hands
were nailed to the cross with Jesus. He gave up having a
fire in his room and even avoided warming himself at one.
Every day he wore a hair-shirt and one or two chains for
some time ; and he inflicted severe disciplines on himself
Moreover, between sugarless tea, butterless bread and saltless
meat, he converted his meals into a continuous series of
mortifications.

Naturally he had, in fact, a very hearty appetite and a
keen appreciation of sweets and delicacies ; all of which
he converted into an arena for self-denial. He began even
as a young boy. When he and his brother were getting
from their 'big sister an exhortation on kindness and
unselfishness, Willie, not needing much effort to discover
what he was very fond of, suddenly exclaimed : ' ' Yes, May,
wouldn't this be very selfish, if I got a pot of jam and ate
it all myself without giving any of it to Charlie ? " A horrible
deed of gluttony of which he was never guilty ! No doubt
his sister's reassuring answer confirmed his good will ! We
can realise the wonderful continuity of his life when over
thirty years later we find him pencilling this resolution on
the first page of the little private notebook he kept with
him at the Front : " No blackberries. Give away all
chocolates. Give away box of biscuits. No jam, breakfast,
lunch, dinner." Some excerpts from his diary will enable
us to realise how much this struggle against taste and appetite
meant to him. On ist September, 1911, he writes : "I feel
a growing thirst for self-denial ; it is a pleasure not to taste
the delicacies provided for me. I wish I could give up the'

i. — Compare his remarks on heroism, pp. 27 f.

128 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

use of meat entirely. I long even to live on bread and water. •"
My Jesus, what marvellous graces You are giving me,
who always have been so fond of eating and used to feel a
small act of denial of my appetite a torture." A month
later, just after giving a retreat in a Carmelite convent, he
records : "I felt urged in honour of St. Teresa to give myself
absolutely no comfort at meals which I could possibly avoid.
I found no difficulty in doing this for the nine days. I have
begged very earnestly for the grace to continue this all my
life and am determined to try to do so. For example, to
take no butter, no sugar in coffee, no salt, etc. The
wonderful mortified lives of these holy nuns have made me
ashamed of my gratification of my appetite." That he by
no means found this mortification easy we have many
indications. Thus on 5th Jan., 1912, he writes : " During
Exposition Jesus asked me if I would give up taking second
course at dinner. This would be a very great sacrifice ;
but I promised Him at least to try to do so and begged for
grace and generosity." And again on I4th Sept., 1912 :
" Having again indulged my appetite, I made this resolution,
that whenever I do so, no matter for what reason (health,
feasts, etc.), I will enter it in the other book. I think this
will be a check and a help to me to do what Jesus has asked
so long — no indulgence whatever in food." "A fierce
temptation during Mass and thanksgiving," he records a
year later (i8th Sept., 1913), " to break my resolution and
indulge my appetite at breakfast. The thought of a break
fast of dry bread and tea without sugar in future seemed
intolerable. Jesus urged me to pray for strength though I
could scarcely bring myself to do so. But the temptation
left me in the refectory, and joy filled my heart with the
victory. I see now that I need never yield if only I pray
for strength."

On the subject of butter there are many resolutions in
the diary. Materially the subject may seem trivial, but
psychologically it represents a great struggle and victory.1
Any habit such as that of smoking may presumably be

i. — Compare S. Margaret Mary's eight years of struggle against her
repugnance to cheese. — Life, p. 33.

SELF-CONQUEST 129

explained in purely material terms : the formation of anti
bodies in the system and the consequent periodical need
of toxins to restore the balance. But no such type of medical
explanation can alter the fundamental human fact that such
a habit can be controlled or abolished by a sufficient exercise
of will-power, which ordinarily cannot be accomplished
without religious motives. Let us hope that old-fashioned
Catholic practices — for example, giving up smoking or doing
without butter during Lent — will not be lightly laid aside.
It is in such little acts that man rises above the beast and
fosters his human heritage of a rational will. So Fr. Doyle's
butter-resolutions are not at all so unimportant or whimsical
as they who have ever thoughtlessly eaten and drunk may
be inclined to fancy. " God has been urging me strongly
all during this retreat," he writes in September 1913, " to
give up butter entirely. I have done so at many meals
without any serious inconvenience ; but I am partly held
back through human respect, fearing others may notice
it. If they do, what harm ? I have noticed that X takes
none for lunch ; that has helped me. Would not I help
others if I did the same ? " " One thing," he continues,
" I feel Jesus asks, which I have not the courage to give
Him — the promise to give up butter entirely." On 2gth
July, 1914, we find this resolution : " For the present I will
take butter on two mouthfuls of bread at breakfast but none
at other meals." To this decision he seems to have
adhered.

Not only did Fr. Doyle mortify himself in the quality of
the food he took but he also refused to allow his appetite
to be satisfied in quantity. " Towards the end of the
retreat," he wrote on 3rd December, 1914, " a light came
to me that, now that I have given Jesus all the sacrifices
I possibly can in the matter of food, He is now going to ask
retrenchment in the quantity. So far I have not felt that
He asked this, but grace now seems to urge me to it. I dread
what this means, but Jesus will give me strength to do what
He wants."

This relentless concentration of will on matters of food
must not lead us to suppose that Fr. Doyle was in any way
morbidly absorbed or morosely affected thereby. For one

130 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

less trained in will or less sure in spiritual perspective there
might easily be danger of entanglement in minutiae and
over-attention to what is secondary. All this apparatus of
mortification is but a means to an end, it should not be made
an end in itself. We must not be so ' busy about much
serving,' we should not so burden or worry ourselves about
what we eat and drink, that we are ' careful and troubled
about many things ' and lose sight of the ' one thing
necessary ' — the best part chosen by Mary. (5. Luke
10. 40-42.) This persistent and systematic thwarting of
appetite helped Fr. Doyle to strengthen his will and to fix
it on God. He never lost himself in a maze of petty
resolutions, he never became anxious or distracted. But
the armour of Goliath would hamper David. There are
those whom elaborate prescriptions and detailed regulations
would only strain and worry. And these best find the peace
of God in a childlike thankful acceptance of His gifts, without
either careless indulgence or self-conscious artificiality. " In
everything God reveals His love to me," writes Soeur
Gertrude-Marie.1 " I was given a strawberry at lunch.
While eating it, I said to myself : God was thinking of me
when He caused this fruit to ripen. He said : It will be
for My child. And I said : It will be for refreshing in me
the sacred Humanity of my Saviour. Our love must be
reciprocal. God gives me His good things, I wish to give
them back to Him by the holy use I make of them."

As with food, so with sleep. We have already seen how
Fr. Doyle often robbed himself of sleep in order to pray.
Sometimes, too, he slept on the floor or put boards in his

bed. " During the last three nights of the retreat,"

he writes (20th Dec., 1914), " I slept on the floor without
feeling any inconvenience after, though I woke very often
on account of the pain. This is the first time I have slept
this way on more than one (successive) night." On i2th
July, 1915, he writes thus in his diary : " Not feeling well, I
gave up the intention of sleeping on boards, but overcame
self and did so. I rose this morning quite fresh and none
the worse for it, proving once more how our Lord would

i. — Une mystique de nos jours, p. 454. Of this work Fr. Doyle once wrote :
" I almost grudge lending you this book, I have found it so helpful." Compare
Life and Revelations ofS. Gertrude, 1865, pp. 380, 412.

SELF-CONQUEST 131

help me if I were generous." And in September, 1915, he
made the resolution to ' put boards in his bed every night
when at home.'

It is scarcely necessary to remark that all these
mortifications were extremely difficult to flesh and blood.
There was no such thing in Fr. Doyle as a natural pleasure
or pride in, or, at least, indifference to, physical discomfort
and suffering. He really loathed and detested the life which
he voluntarily imposed on himself. " My God," he once
wrote (22nd October, 1915), " this morning I was in despair.
After some days of relaxation owing partly to sickness, I
resolved to begin my life of crucifixion once more, but found
I could not. I seemed to have lost all strength and courage,
and simply hated the thought of the life. Then I ran to You
in the Tabernacle, threw myself before You and begged
You to do all since I could do nothing. In a moment all
was sweet and easy. What help and grace You gave me,
making me see clearly that I must never again give up this
life or omit to mark my book."1 This extract not only
shows us his natural repugnance but also reveals the source
of his strength. His indomitable determination to overcome
himself is especially manifested in an expedient which he
adopted latterly, namely, binding himself by a temporary
vow to do that which he felt tempted to avoid. " Jesus
taught me a simple way to-day of conquering the temptation
to break resolutions. When, for example, I want to take
sugar in my tea, etc., I will make a vow not to do so for that
one occasion, which will compel me to do it, no matter what
it may cost. I know often I shall have to force myself to
take this little vow ; but I realize that if only I can bring
myself to say ' I vow,' then all the conflict raging in my
soul about that particular thing will cease at once. This
will be invaluable to me in the future." (22nd Feb., 1914.)
We have several records of his using this heroic device.

' Three times to-day by making a vow I was able to force
myself to do what I did not want to do. Once I had almost

i. — This he called " the book of little victories." It is consoling and human
to read the very next entry (sth Nov.) : " Again for the past few days I have
broken my resolutions and indulged myself. I see two causes of this : idleness,
not. overcoming my natural dislike for certain kinds of work, e.g., preparation
of sermons ; and above all, yielding to depression."

132 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

to shout out the vow, and then I had no trouble at all in
doing what I promised — to remain up till night prayers.
Once the vow was followed by a fierce temptation to break
it, and a great regret I had bound myself. But again I had
no difficulty in doing without sugar, and much peace and
strength followed the victory." (22nd Nov., 1914.)

" It came home to me to-day as it never did before, the
immense help little vows would be. By this means I can
force myself to do almost anything ; and (such little vows)
being taken for one occasion only, e.g. I will not read a paper
to-day, are quite easy to keep. I have gained several victories
by this means. I have noticed that there is often great
difficulty in forcing myself to make the vow, but very little
in carrying it out."

It does not appear that this rather drastic procedure ever
led to anxiety or scrupulosity. Fr. Doyle had thought
things out clearly ; he knew exactly what he wanted and
what he could do. He retained the militant enthusiasm of
his boyhood. Whenever he met an obstacle in his spiritual
life and found himself shying at it, he — to use an expressive
phrase — took himself by the back of the neck and threw
himself over. And, wonderful to relate, he did it all with
the zest of a youth in a cross-country race.1 His acts
of self-conquest were not a cold calculated succession of
deliberate inhibitions, nor was his ideal mere apathy or
dehumanised perfection. In real Christian asceticism and
mysticism there is always a joyous note, a paradoxical
combination of gaiety and pain. " What are God's servants,"
asked S. Francis of Assisi,2 "but His troubadours who seek
to uplift men's hearts and to move them to spiritual joy? "

i. — Compare this entry in his diary (i7th January, 1912) : "Our Lord wants
me

sacrifice
but

2. — Speculum Perjcctionis, c. 100.

LIFE OF IMMOLATION 133

(2.) LIFE OF IMMOLATION.
A . Introduction.

We have hitherto regarded Fr. Doyle's penance somewhat
after the plain matter-of-fact way in which St. Ignatius
deliberately treats it in his Spiritual Exercises. Penance is
designed to overcome passion and to assert the supremacy
of the right will. Of course, this must not be understood
in the sense of a merely naturalistic stoicism ; for the super
natural motive and the action of grace have been apparent
all through. No one is likely to adopt systematic self-denial
just because he wants to improve the relations of soul and
body. It is only religion which can inspire, vitalise, and
ennoble the conquest of self. But even this admission
leaves our analysis of penance exceedingly incomplete. What
we have quoted from St. Ignatius would not suffice, for
instance, to explain his own practice. Neither will it throw
much light on Fr. Doyle's life. Beyond all these terms of
will and passion, of reason and sensuality, there is something
ineffably deeper and more mysterious in the economy of
penance and suffering. The Christian view of sin presupposes
the reality of the moral order of which sin is a violation, it
implies the necessity of atonement by an inscrutable law
of holiness which is of the essence of God's nature. The
pagan lightly says : " Why should I be afraid of any of my
errors, when I can say, See that you do it no more, now I
forgive you."1 Far different is the language of the
Christian. Christ came " to give His life as a ransom for
all " (S. Matthew 20. 28) ; He " died for our sins " (I Cor.
15. 3) ; '" His ownself bore our sins in His body upon the
tree, that we being dead to Sins should live to justice."
(/ Peter 2. 24.) " Unto you," says St. Paul (Phil. i. 29),
"it is given for Christ, not only to believe in Him but also
to suffer for Him." "I fill up," he says, " those things
that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ, in my flesh,

i. — Seneca, De ira, iii. 36. 3.

134 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

for His Body which is the Church." (Col i. 24.) We
cannot adequately explain in words nor can we by general
reasoning reach the profound and mysterious process of
reconciliation with God. But the Atonement of Christ,
viewed in the light of faith, enables us to perceive the inner
nature of sin and redemption. " Mere repentance," says
St. Athanasius,1 " would not maintain what is reasonable
with respect to God .... nor does it recover man from
his (corrupt) nature ; it simply means cessation from acts
of sin. If sin were merely a wrongdoing and involved no
consequent corruption, repentance might well suffice. But
this is not the case. When once transgression had begun,
man fell into the power of a corrupt nature and lost the grace
of being in God's image." Our redemption was effected
only when Christ " taking from our bodies one of like nature,
gave it over to death in the stead of all and offered it to the
Father. And this He did out of love for man. His purpose
therein was twofold, (i) As we all died in Him, His death
was to annul the law due to man's corruption, since its
authority was fully vindicated in the Lord's body and no
longer held against men of like nature. (2) As men had
orignally turned to corruption, He might now turn them to
incorruption and quicken them from death to life, by His
appropriation of a human body and by the grace of His
resurrection." Thus we see from the glorious dogma of our
Redemption that Christ's assumption of our humanity
implies a wondrous solidarity and mystic union between us
and Him.2 As we can see in the life of Saint Margaret
Mary Alacoque, it is of the very essence of the devotion to
the Sacred Heart that chosen souls are specially privileged
to share in this redemptive work and to fill up those things
that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ. And indeed
not only privileged souls but all Christians are invited by
the Church to add their prayers and penances to the sufferings
of our Redeemer for the conversion of sinners, to unite in
loving adoration and thus atone for outrage and sin. The
devotion of the Forty Hours, instituted by Clement VIII

i. — De incamatione, vii. 3 ; viii. 4.

2. — Compare St. Thomas's teaching that there is a real physical efficiency in
Christ's passion and resurrection. — Summa, p. 3, 948, a 6, ad 2; 956, a i, ad 3,

LIFE OF IMMOLATION 135

in 1592, the cult of the Sacred Heart, the founding of special
religious congregations1 and sodalities, the lives of the more
recent saints and servants of God, all bear witness to the
prominence of the idea of reparation in the Church to-day.
If this cooperation were regarded as injuring the mediation
of Christ, Luther would have been right against the Council
of Trent and works would not count for justification. If
the expiation of the just, quickened by our Saviour's merits,
cannot be offered for the sinner, the Communion of Saints
is not a reality. And it is only by thus entering into this
mystic communion and as it were ' pooling ' our sufferings
and prayers, that we can escape from narrow individualism
and depressing isolation. " For them do I sanctify myself,
that they also may be sanctified in truth. And not for them
only do I pray, but for them also who through their word
shall believe in Me, that they all may be one ; that as Thou,
Father, art in Me and I in Thee, so they also may be
in Us . . . ; I in them and Thou in Me, that they be made
perfect in one." (S. John 17. 19-23.)

This ideal of reparation and suffering, this implied mystic
oneness with Christ, is, of course, intuitively felt and lived,
rather than theorised and reasoned about by pious souls.
Expressed in terms of our personal relation to our Lord, it
at once appeals to those with living faith. " If any man
will come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his
cross daily and follow Me. For whosoever will save his
life, shall lose it ; and whosoever for My sake shall lose his
life, shall save it." (S. Luke 9. 23.) This following of Christ
was even incorporated by St. Ignatius into his Constitutions : 2
" Those who are advancing in spirit and seriously following

i. — The Congregations of the Adoration Rdparatrice and of Marie Rdparatrice,
the Society of the Filles du Cceur dejdsus.

2. — Summarium Constitutionum S.J., 1 1-12. This ideal of Christlike imitation
and atonement is really distinct from the ordinary idea of asceticism or morti
fication. "There is in Catholic sanctity a sacrifice of the body which could
not be called mortification though it resembles mortification. It is not intended
as a protection to purity, as an exercise of courage, but as a holocaust to God,
as an atonement for personal sin or for the sin of mankind. Such are the most
adorable of all suffering's, the sufferings of Christ on the Cross. Sufferings of
that kind do not come under the heading- of mortification. Their explanation
is more theological than psychological. There have been sufferings of that
kind in the lives of the saints, whose desire it was to resemble Christ crucified,
to renew in their bodies the sufferings of Christ." — Abbot A. Vonier, The
Human Soul, 1913, p. 129.

136 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

Christ our Lord love and ardently desire what is altogether
contrary to the things of the world, namely, to be clothed
with the same garment and insignia as their Master, for His
love and reverence. . . . The better to attain to this
precious degree of perfection in the spiritual life, let it be
the great and earnest endeavour of each one to seek in the
Lord his greater abnegation and, as far as he can, his continual
mortification in all things."

In the Spiritual Exercises, too, once the First Week is
passed, we find an ideal rising far above the ascetic aim of
penance. S. Ignatius will have his exercitant aspire to the
mystic chivalrous following of the great Leader, " in the
highest degree of poverty of spirit, and not less in actual
poverty if it please His divine Majesty," aye, even " in
bearing reproaches and insults, the better to imitate Him
in these."1 This message, to-day so uniquely characteristic
of Catholicism, is a triumphant vindication of our continuity
with the early Church and of the ever-living reality of the
Redemption. " Unto this you are called," says S. Peter,
he who like his Master was to stretch forth his hands for
another to gird him (5. John 21. 18), " because Christ also
suffered for us, leaving you an example that you should
follow His steps." (/ Peter 2. 21.) ' We suffer," says the
other S. Ignatius, martyred at Rome under Trajan,2 " we
suffer that we may be found disciples of Jesus Christ our
only Teacher."

In the order of time, indeed, Christ suffers no more. In
His personal humanity He can no longer endure pain and
humiliation. But we, His mystical Body, can. ' The
Church is His Body and the completing of Him who fills
all in all." (Ephes. i. 23.) Hence it is that S. Paul could
say, as already cited : " I fill up those things that are wanting
of the sufferings of Christ, in my flesh, for His Body which
is the Church. (Col. i. 24.) And this function, this
association in the redemptive work of Jesus Christ, is not
an ideal applicable merely to great saints and mystics ; it
is a function to be filled by all true Christians, each in his
measure filling up the lacunae, every good life linking itself

I. — The Two Standards— Spiritual Exercises, p. 47.
2. — Ep, to Magnesians, 9. i.

LIFE OF IMMOLATION 137

up into the wondrous unity of the moral order. Though
we may not always advert to it, when we speak of the
imitation of Christ and of reparation to the Sacred Heart,
we are presupposing this prolongation and extension of the
Saviour's life into ours.

The first great revelation of the Heart of Jesus is contained
in the seventh chapter of S. Luke's Gospel. " Dost thou
see this woman? " said Christ to Simon. " I entered into
thy house, thou gavest Me no water for My feet — but she
with tears hath washed My feet and with her hair hath
wiped them. Thou gavest Me no kiss — but she, since she
came in, hath not ceased to kiss My feet. My head with
oil thou didst not anoint — but she with ointment hath anointed
My feet. . . . She hath loved much." This detailed
antithesis, this careful balancing of neglect with service,
this sensitive juxtaposition of Simon and Magdalen in the
Heart of Christ, contains the essence of the idea of reparation.
That is, if our Lord's life and mission is more than a simple
historical event and is still accessible to us who live in these
latter days.1 Many a Simon nowadays treats Christ with
studied slight and scorn, and we — is the role of Magdalen
closed to us ? Cannot Christ still address the sinner,
' Thou .... but she . . . ? " Cannot our loving
much prevail and repair ? And to the solitary adorer does
there not still from the Tabernacle come the whisper, " The
nine — where are they ? " (5. Luke 17. 17.)

The Gethsemane agony has passed nigh two thousand
years ago. Yet here is the message to S. Margaret Mary :
" Every night between Thursday and Friday I will make
thee share in the mortal sadness which I was pleased to feel
in the Garden of Olives. ... In order to bear Me
company, . . . thou shalt rise between eleven o'clock and
midnight and remain prostrate with Me for an hour, not
only to appease the divine anger by begging mercy for sinners,
but also to mitigate in some way the bitterness which I felt
at that time on finding Myself abandoned by My apostles,
which obliged Me to reproach them for not being able to
watch one hour with Me."'2

i. — See also pp. IO5/.

2.— Life of Bl. Margaret Mary Alacogiie(P'Ara,y-\e-Non\i\\}, Eng. trans. [1912],
p. 68. On the Holy Hour see above p. 107.

138 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

Since the day on which " they laid the cross " on Simon
of Cyrene " to carry after Jesus " (5. Luke 23. 26), many
a faithful one has sprung forward to carry the Master's
cross. And shall we say, Too late ? Is the Cyrenaean alone
to be Christ's cross-bearer ? Surely, that were to deny the
eternal significance and ever-present reality of Christ's
Sacrifice.1 Does not Paul himself declare " I have been
crucified with Christ " (Gal. 2. 20) ? And he added signi
ficantly : " So it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ
who lives in me."

It is only in the light of these considerations that we can
properly appreciate the lives of the saints. These few
remarks will also help us to understand that thirst for suffering
and desire of reparation which are so prominent on every
.page of Fr. Doyle's inner life. As S. Catherine of Siena
remarks,2 " one virtue belongs especially to one man and
another to another, and yet they all remain in charity."
Though Fr. Doyle's character was manysided and eclectic,
the ideal which more and more attracted him in the later
years of his life was that of sacrificial self-immolation. Men
have characteristic virtues just as they have predominant
faults ; in good as in evil we are all more or less specialists.
In a very real sense every soul is unique, no two of us are
exactly alike ; hence there can be no question of mechanically
reproducing another's life in our own. This diversity in
unity is apparent even within the same religious Order.3
Thus while many of Fr. Doyle's fellow-religious would doubt
less envisage life from a different angle, to him the great
message which inspired and explained his life-vocation
was our Lord's saying to S. Margaret Mary : "I seek a
victim to My Heart which will immolate itself as a holocaust

i.— So it is said of sinners that they " are fallen away ... crucifying again
to themselves the Son of God and making Him a mockery." — Heb. 6. 6.

2.— Thorold, The Dialogue of the Seraphic Virgin Catherine of Siena, 19072,
p. 297 ; cf. p. 46. S. Teresa was emphatic that " our Lord leads souls on by
different roads." — Foundations, 18. 6.

3. — Compare, for instance, with the better known Jesuit Saints, such members
of the Society as Fathers Alvarez and Surin, the V'en. Emmanuel Padial(t 172.5)
who fell into a rapture at the mention of crib or stable, the Ven. Bernard de
Hoyos(t 1735), a wondrous mystic and the first apostle of the Sacred Heart in
Spain. See the remarks made above, p. 36.

LIFE OF IMMOLATION 139

to the accomplishment of My designs."1 This ideal of
reparation, and in particular this special offering as a victim
of immolation, is thoroughly in accord with the mind of the
Church. Pope Leo XIII, for example, says in one of his
encyclicals :2

" It is most fitting that Catholics should by a great spirit
of faith and holiness make reparation for the depravity
of views and actions and show publicly that nothing is
dearer to them than the glory of God and the religion of
their fathers. Let those especially who are more strictly
bound to God, those who live in religion, rouse themselves
more generously to charity and strive to propitiate the divine
Majesty by their humble prayers, their voluntary sacrifices
and the offering of themselves."

Moreover, this ideal of a victim of reparation has in the
case of several religious institutes been specially approved
by Rome.3 Indeed it is but the perfect and logical develop
ment of the devotion to the Sacred Heart which seems almost
to have been reserved for this age of dwindling faith and
cooling charity.4

i. — Life p. 35. It is significant to note that S. Francis de Sales had already-
declared that "the daughters of the Visitation . . . are victims of sacrifice
and living holocausts." — Letters to Persons in Religion, Eng. trans. 1901 3,
p. 105. Compare also Sister Gertrude Mary (Eng. trans, of abridged French
edition, p. 24) : "I appoint you My victim of reparation — the victim of My
choice."

2. — Nobilissima Gallorum Gens, 8 Feb., 1884. — Lettres apostoliques i. 238.
See also the special Brief (6 March, 1883) given in Mgr. d'Hulst's pamphlet
L adoration re"paratrice et nationale, Lille. 1884.

3. — Thus the specially approved Constitutions of the Benedictines of Perpetual
Adoration, " I vow and promise .... zealously to preserve the perpetual
adoration and worship of the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar, as a victim
immolated to Its glory." (58, 23). On 3rd Feb. 1908, the Institute of the
"Daughters or Victims of the Sacred Heart of Jesus" received formal
approval.

4.— Cf. the work of P&re Calage, S J., at Marseilles (1846-66) as director of
" ames victimes " and his stimulus to the foundation of the Societe des filles
du Cosur de Jesus. — Laplace, La Mere Marie de Jfeus, new ed. 1906, pp. 121 ff.
See also Fr. Doyle's letters of direction pp. 193^

140 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

B. Father Doyle's Notes.

It is only when we see this ideal of reparation carried out
to a degree of heroic intensity in the life of one who has
lived in our midst, that we realise its surpassing strength
and beauty. And perhaps by thus witnessing this ennoble
ment of suffering, we shall be aided to purge our own lives
of sordid repining and fretful grumbling and to see in every
form of pain an ally instead of an enemy, to enlarge our
souls by the sane and social mysticism of reparation. " It
is quite true," writes Mgr. d'Hulst,1 " that reparation under
lies all real interior life. But you know the difference between
acknowledging a truth with the intelligence and discovering
it within one's heart. This discovery — delayed no doubt by
many infidelities, by a too external life, a life too busied
with outward things — I am beginning to make on my own
account, after having made it more than once for other
people."

It was during his 1909 retreat that the ideal of a life of
absolute self-sacrifice and reparatory suffering came home
to Fr. Doyle with full conviction and clearness. " I am
more and more convinced," he writes, " that Jesus is asking
from me the complete and absolute sacrifice of every
gratification, pleasure, self-indulgence and comfort, which
within the Rule and without injuring my health or work
I can give Him. I have never before felt such a strong
desire or such supernatural help to make and keep this
resolution. Looked at in the bulk it appals me, but taken
moment by moment, there is nothing which I cannot do.
By the grace of God I can do all things." " I can honestly
say," the journal continues, " I do not think of any sacrifice
possible for me to make, which I have not written down
at the end of this book,- so that now for the first time in my
life I have given my Jesus absolutely everything I think
He asks from me. Already I taste the reward in the deep

i. — The Way of the Heart: Letters of Direction, Eng. trans. 1913, p- 56.
2. — Apparently the resolutions (only partly extant) quoted on p. 90.

LIFE OF IMMOLATION 141

peace and happiness I experience and in the growing desire
to be more and more generous in giving. This time of
consolation I know will not last always, but I am ready
for the storm, trusting in God's grace, for all this is His
work and He will never fail me. . . . There must be
no going back now even in little things, no truce, no yielding
to nature, till death." This retreat before his last vows
(Feb. 1909) Fr. Doyle always called his " conversion." In
his next retreat (Sept. 1910) he was able to record a distinct
advance : " The past eighteen months have shown me that
with the help of God's grace, sacrifices, which formerly I
thought utterly impossible, were easy enough. This fills me
with confidence to face others which I have been afraid of
up to this." " I must, therefore," he concluded, " eagerly
welcome every little pain, suffering, small sickness, trouble,
cross of any kind, as coming straight to me from the Sacred
Heart. Am I not Your loving victim, my Jesus ? I must
remember also my compact — anything to become a saint."

At Limerick, on the Feast of the Holy Family (22nd Jan.)
1911, Fr. Doyle wrote down (or rather typed) in the form
of an intimate spontaneous prayer a further elaboration of
his ideal of self-immolation. It is at once pathetically
human, magnificently heroic, and intensely practical :

" My dear loving Jesus what do You want from me ?
You never seem to leave me alone — thank You ever so much
for that — but keep on asking, asking, asking. I have tried
to do a good deal lately for You and have made many little
sacrifices which have cost me a good deal, but You do not
seem to be satisfied with me yet and want more.

" The same thought is ever haunting me, coming back
again and again ; fight as I will, I cannot get away from it
or conceal from myself what it is You really want. I realise
it more and more every day. But, my sweet Jesus, I am
so afraid, I am so cowardly, so fond of myself and my own
comfort, that I keep hesitating and refusing to give in to
You and to do what You want.

" Let me tell You what I think this is. You want me to
immolate myself to Your pleasure ; to become Your victim
by self-inflicted suffering ; to crucify myself in every way
I can think of ; never if possible to be without some pain

142 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

or discomfort ; to die to myself and to my love of ease and
comfort ; to give myself the necessaries of life but no more
(and I think these could be largely reduced without injury
to my health) ; to crucify my body in every way I can think
of, bearing heat, cold, little sufferings, without relief,
constantly, if possible always, wearing some instrument of
penance ; to crucify my appetite by trying to take as little
delicacies as possible ; to crucify my eyes by a vigilant
guard over them ; to crucify my will by submitting it to
others ; to give up all comfort, all self-indulgence ; to sacrifice
iny love of ease, love for sleep at unusual times ; to work,
to toil for souls, to suffer, to pray always. My Jesus, am I
not right, is not this what You want from me and have
asked so long ?

" I feel it is. For the thought of such a life, so naturally
terrifying, fills me with joy, for I know I could not do one
bit of it myself but that it will all be the work of Your grace
and love. I have found, too, that the more I give, the more
I do, the more I suffer, the greater becomes this longing.

" Jesus, you know my longing to become a saint. You
know how much I thirst to die a martyr. Help me to prove
that I am really in earnest by living this life of martyrdom.

0 loving Jesus, help me now not to fight any longer against
You. I really long to do what You want, but I know my
weakness so well and my inconstancy. I have made so
many generous resolutions which I have never kept that

1 feel it is almost a mockery to promise more. This record
of my feelings and desire at this moment will be a spur to
my generosity ; and if I cannot live up to the perfection of
what You want, at least I am now determined to do more
than I have ever done before. Help me, Jesus !

" This light has come to me now :

(1) Try to live this life for one day, at least now and
again ; this will show you it is not impossible.

(2) Do what the Holy Ghost suggests, at once — ' Make
this little sacrifice,' ' Do this,' ' Don't do that/ etc."

A fortnight later (5th February, 1911), he thus records " a
great grace " : " To-day while praying in the Chapel,
suddenly it seemed to me as if I were standing before a
narrow path all choked with briars and sharp thorns. Jesus

LIFE OF IMMOLATION 143

was beside me with a large cross and I heard Him ask me
would I strip myself of all things, and naked as He was on
Calvary, take that cross on my bare shoulders and bravely
fight my way to the end of the road. I realised clearly
that this would mean much suffering and that very soon
my flesh would be torn and bleeding from the thorns. All
the same, humbly I promised Him, that, relying on His
grace, I would not shrink from what He asked, and even
begged Him to drag me through these briars since I am so
cowardly. This inspiration, coming so soon after the ardent
desire really to crucify myself, shows me clearly what kind
of life Jesus is asking from me. I felt impelled to resolve
as far as possible never to be without some slight bodily
suffering, e.g. chain on arm, etc. I have also made a vow
twice (binding for one day) to refuse on that day no sacrifice
which I really feel my Jesus asks from me. All this has
given me great interior peace and happiness, with fresh
courage and determination to become a saint." He
characteristically adds, " Life is too short for a truce."

Once more (loth March, 1911), he felt an impetuous urging
towards this life which, humanly speaking, was so motiveless
and repellent.

" This morning (he writes) during meditation I again
felt that mysterious appeal from our Blessed Lord for a life
of absolute, complete sacrifice of every comfort. I see and feel
now, without a shadow of a doubt, as certainly as if Jesus
Himself appeared and spoke to me, that He wants me to
give up now and for ever all self-indulgence, to look on myself
as not being free in the matter. That being so how can
I continue my present manner of life, of a certain amount
of generosity, fervent one day and then the next day giving
in to self in everything ?

" When a little unwell, or when I have a slight headache.
I lie down, give up work, indulge myself in the refectory.
I see that I lose immensely by this, for that is the time of
great merit, and Jesus sends me that pain to bear for Him.

" One thing keeps me back from a life of generosity — a
cowardly fear of injuring my health, persuading myself I
may interfere with my work. Why not leave all this in
God's hands and trust in Him ? If the saints had listened

144 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

to human prudence, they would never have been saints."1

We have already seen that Fr. Doyle had once or twice
made a vow binding him for that day to refuse Jesus no
sacrifice. Clearly it is only one with very explicit inspirations
and promptings who could make such a vow without
ambiguities or scruples. Fr. Doyle proceeded cautiously
step by step ; and while anxious to strengthen his will, he
was careful to avoid burdening himself with doubts and
worries. We gather this from what he writes on the Feast
of St. Mary Magdalen, 1911 :

" This morning I made a vow for three days (then renewed
it for two more) to refuse Jesus no sacrifice or act of self-
denial which I honestly think He asks from me. If at all
doubtful, I am to consider myself not bound by the vow.
For a long time I have felt impelled to do something of the
kind, but only to-day got light to see how to avoid
scrupulosity, by leaving myself free, unless I feel quite con
vinced I should make the sacrifice. I did not experience
the difficulty I expected in carrying this out, but realised
what an immense help it would be in bracing my weak will
to generosity."

It was during his annual retreat, September, 1911, that
Fr. Doyle, after these tentative experiments, resolved to
make this vow daily. This he did very calmly and
deliberately and after much prayer, without any sensible
fervour, but rather in spite of desolation and repugnance.
The following extracts contain the considerations which he
jotted down as well as the terms of the vow itself :

" Every meditation of this retreat seems to turn upon the
vow Jesus wishes me to make. Each day more light and

I. — Compare the saying of Soeur Gertrude-Marie (Une mystique de nos jours ^
p. 593) quoted later on in Fr. Doyle's diary : " I am sure that God wishes me
to go to the end without giving any attention to what costs me, to what tires
me, to what injures my health. I must no longer follow any rule of human
prudence in what concerns my health ; God has charge of it. It is strange, at
the moment when I am most tired, most suffering, most exhausted, God asks
me for yet more. He asks me such and such a thing : I must do it at once,
without considering if it injures my health, without listening to the protests of
nature. I must be crucified with Jesus. I must go as far as the extinction or
self." Also the Foundress of the Society of Marie Reparatrice : " My whole
being has turned into suffering ; everything fatigues me, everything costs me
an effort, so broken down is my nature. And nevertheless God does not wish
either solace or rest for me as long as the possibility of suffering remains. "-
Life of Mother Mary of Jesus, (Eng. trans, by Fr. Gallery), 1913, p. 191.

LIFE OF IMMOLATION 145

great graces make it clear to me that this is to be the great
fruit I am to draw from these days.

(1) Meditating on St. Mary Magdalen I felt heart-broken,
thinking of my sinful life in the Society. ' My Jesus, I can
only offer my life in reparation — take it all.' A voice seemed
to reply ' I accept your offering : spend that life for Me
in sacrifice and self-denial.'

(2) If I were put in a dungeon, like the martyrs, with
nothing to lie on but the bare stone floor, with no protection
from intense cold, bread and water once a day for food,
with no home comfort whatever, I could endure all that
for years and gladly for the love of Jesus, yet I am unwilling
to suffer a little inconvenience now, I must have every
comfort, warm clothes, fire, food as agreeable as I possibly
can, etc.

(3) The devil has been exaggerating the difficulties of my
proposed vow, saying human nature could not bear it. I
have thought of the man in the workhouse forty years in
bed, of blind Brigid suffering for years constantly. How
much we can do when we must !

(4) Sanctity is so precious, it is worth paying any price
for it. I feel I shall never be a saint if I refuse to do this.
God sanctifies souls in many ways, the path of daily and
hourly sacrifices in everything and always is mine.

(5) Can a Jesuit, who deliberately refuses his Lord any
act of self-denial, which he knows is asked from him, ever
be really insignis ? Will Jesus be content with only half-
measures from me ? I feel He will not ; He asks for all.
My Jesus, with Your help I will give You all.

(6) I was greatly struck with the thought that at His
birth, our Lord began a voluntary life of suffering which
would never end till He died in agony on the cross. All
this for me \ I have little zeal for souls simply because I
do not ask for it. 'Ask and you shall receive : hitherto
you have not asked.' (S. John 16. 24.)

" I have gone through a great deal of desolation, discourage
ment, fear and dread of my proposed vow. When I make
it — I am quite determined now to do so — it will be the result

146 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

of calm conviction that I must do so, that God wants it
from me, and not a burst of fervour. I shrink from this
living death, but am quite happy in the thought that, since
God has inspired me to do so, He will do all the work if once
I submit my will. ... I was consoled by seeing
Fr. de la Colombi£re's repugnance to making his heroic
vow.1 He spoke of the sadness which this constant fight
against nature sometimes gave him. He overcame that
temptation by remembering that it is sweet and easy to do
what we know will please one we really love.

A. M. D. G. et B. v. M.

MY VOW.

I deliberately vow, and bind myself, under pain of mortal
sin, to refuse Jesus no sacrifice, which I clearly see He is
asking from me. Amen.

CONDITIONS.

(1) Until I get permission2 to make it permanently, this
will only bind from day to day, to be renewed each morning
at Mass.

(2) To avoid scrupulosity, I am quite Iree unless I honestly
believe the sacrifice is asked.

(3) Any confessor may dispense me from the vow at
any time.

Feast of St. Michael,
Tullabeg. September 29th, 1911.

Though not coming under the matter of the vow, my
aim will be : —

(a) Never to avoid suffering e.g. heat or cold, unpleasant
people etc.

i. — See the quotation on p. 36.

2. — This reference shows clearly that Fr. Doyle consulted his confessor and
sought permission for these private vows.

LIFE OF IMMOLATION 147

(b) Of two alternatives, to choose the harder e.g. ordinary
or arm chair.

(d) As far as possible, not to omit my ordinary penances
when a little unwell.

(e) My constant question to be : ' What other sacrifice
can I make ? What more can I give up for Jesus ? How
can I do this action more perfectly ? '

REASONS FOR MAKING VOW.

(1) The immense help it will be to become fervent.

(2) Additional great merit from doing the acts under vow.

(3) I see now what was the strange ' want ' which I have
felt so often in my life. I have been urged by grace for years
to take some such step, but only recently clearly saw what
I should do.

(4) My sanctification depends on doing this.

(5) I wish to do my utmost to please my dear Jesus.

(6) I feel simply I must make this vow — as if I had no
power to refuse, which shows me that all this is the work
of grace, and not my doing in the least.

(7) Since Jesus, out of pure love for me, has always lived
this life, and since I have promised to imitate Him, how
can I now refuse to do so ?

(8) I shall gain immensely by this vow, my work for
others will be blessed, more souls will be saved and greater
glory given to God.

(9) What shall I lose ? A little gratification which brings
no real pleasure but always leaves me unhappy, for I feel I
am resisting grace.

I make this vow with immense distrust of myself and my
power to keep it, but place all my confidence and trust in
Thee, O most loving Heart of Jesus."

148 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

At the end of his retreat he wrote down what he considered
to have been its three great fruits :
" (l) The making of my vow.

(2) Resolution to get back my old love and devotion

to Mary.

(3) Trying to acquire under her guidance the ' interior

union.' '

Fifteen months later (January, 1913,) there occurs an entry
in his diary, which is a consoling proof that Fr. Doyle's
heroic ideal was grafted on a humanity shared by us all.
" During this retreat," he writes, " my eyes have been opened
to this unceasing appeal of Jesus and to see how I have
never really kept my resolutions. Even my vow after a
short time I gave up renewing, and lately I forgot I ever
made it. With God's grace I purpose to keep it every
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and to mark each day
in the other book. On these days I will endeavour to give
myself no gratification and not to avoid any little incon
venience or suffering." He was not discouraged, he started
once more. And after another three months he renewed
his vow, this time until the end of the year.

A. M. D. G.

SOLEMN VOW.

" After much thought and prayer, feeling myself urged
strongly by grace and the ceaseless pleading of Jesus, I have
resolved to lead the life of absolute crucifixion which I know
He wants and which alone will please Him.

I now promise and bind myself by vow (under mortal
sin) ' to give Him everything ' until next Christmas Day,
with the power of dispensing myself in case of necessity
on any day.

Dear Jesus, I vow, with the help of Your grace, to give
You all You ask for the future.

Good Friday, March 2ist, 1913.
Three o'clock."

LIFE OF IMMOLATION 149

Fr. Doyle seems to have come to the conclusion that these
two vows were too vague. So he made a third vow, con
cerning which there is the following entry in his diary under
the date 2ist September, 1913 :

" This morning, the Feast of the Seven Dolours, I rose
and made the Holy Hour from one to two. I then knelt
before the Tabernacle and bound myself according to the
conditions in the other book. I also made a promise to use
every effort never to dispense myself from this vow, and to
strive ever and always to give Jesus every sacrifice I possibly
can, trying not to make any account of my health, but leaving
its care to Him. I see clearly now what I must do, and my
obligation under pain of mortal sin, and since I must mark
each act daily I shall not forget it. This vow cancels the
other two which were too vague and not realisable."

In this vow Fr. Doyle specified in detail the ' everything '
which he had promised to give our Lord. The vow included
certain mortifications in food (no sugar or salt, etc.) and bound
him to mark daily acts on the watch and to make 15,000
aspirations during the mission. At the same time he took
ample precautions to avoid scrupulosity or ambiguity.1 The
vow was to be taken during Sunday Mass and to hold for
only one week ; he was " free to dispense in part or in whole
for any reason " ; and it was " not binding when at home
and if too singular on certain occasions." Concerning the
renewals of .this vow or any subsequent modifications in its
terms we have little information. At any rate Fr. Doyle
continued daily marking " the other book " with minute
precision, twenty different headings being marked each
day. The mind which could stand this perpetual strain
was of no ordinary type. It is a marvel that his joyous
spirit never felt crushed by the sheer weight of spiritual
book-keeping involved. On the contrary it would seem that
any relaxation only oppressed and saddened him. " During
the past few days," he notes on 20th Nov., 1914, " I did not
renew my vow, gave up aspirations and all penances, and
indulged myself in every way. The result was great misery

i. — S. Teresa, finding her vow (to do always what was most perfect) a
source of scruples, got it commuted ; she renewed it in a safer form under
the guidance of her confessor. See preface to Lewis's translation of the
Foundations, 1871, p. vi.

150 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

and unhappiness with the feeling that Jesus was very much
pained, though I did not seem to care. I felt powerless to
rise out of this state. This morning He came back to me
during my Mass with such love and grace that I could not
resist Him, and took up my former life again. Great peace
and happiness since."

Is not this after all the final test ? It was by means of
these elaborately devised strivings and these slowly improved
vows that Fr. Doyle found ' great peace and happiness.'
" Everyone hath his proper gift from God," says S. Paul
(/ Cor. 7. 7), " one after this manner and another after
that."

It will be convenient to collect here some of Fr. Doyle's
thoughts and resolutions concerning this life of self-sacrifice
and reparation. We shall thereby be enabled to realise the
growing intensity with which this wonderful ideal dominated
him. More and more the absorbing ambition of his life was
to make himself a living holocaust, ' the victim of the Sacred
Heart.' As time went on, all other motives became fused
in this glowing zeal, culminating finally and appropriately
in the sacrifice of life itself. " Greater love than this no
man hath." (S. John 15. 13.)

" To-day, the Feast of all the Saints of the Society, while
praying in the Chapel at Donnybrook (Poor Clares), our
Lord seemed to ask me these questions :—

(1) When are you going to do what I have so often urged
you and begged from you — a life of absolute sacrifice ?

(2) You have promised Me to begin this life earnestly, —
why not do so at once ?

(3) You have vowed to give Me any sacrifice I want.
I ask this from you :

(a) the most absolute surrender of all gratification,

(b) to embrace every possible suffering,

My Jesus, I shrink from such a life, but will bravely begin
this moment since You wish it." (5th November, 1911.)

LIFE OF IMMOLATION 151

" For a long time past the conviction has been growing
that God wants me to be His victim to be immolated on
the altar of perfect sacrifice. Every act of self-indulgence,
even when there was some excuse if I was not very well,
has left me unhappy, for I see clearly He wants all. The
thought of a life in which there would be absolutely no
yielding to self, stripped of every possible comfort, has an
immense attraction for me lately, even though I have not
the courage or generosity to embrace it. This morning at
Kilmacud Jesus again told me what He wants : ' to refuse
Him no sacrifice, to bear every little pain and inconvenience
without relief, to give myself absolutely no gratification at
meals even when not well or on feasts, and to regard food
only as a means of living, to increase my corporal penances/
So strong clear and persistent is this light, filling my soul
with peace, that I feel absolutely convinced it is the will
of God. I have begun, therefore, to mark days of ' absolute
sacrifice ' for Jesus." (ist January, 1912.)

" Last night I rose at two o'clock, very much against
my will, and went down to the domestic chapel (Limerick).
Jesus seemed to want me to come before Him as a victim
of His divine anger on behalf of sinners. I knelt down in
fear and dread. Acting on a strong impulse I uncovered
my shoulders, bowed my head and asked Jesus to scourge
me without mercy and not to spare me, cowardly as I was.
Then He spoke in my soul clearly and forcibly : ' You must
be your own executioner. I want you to sacrifice all, which
you have never done yet though you often promised. From
this hour you must never give yourself one grain of human
comfort or self-indulgence even at the times you have been
accustomed to do so, e.g. when very tired, not well, travelling,
etc. I want from you a suffering love always, always,
always. The feasts and relaxations of others are not for
you. Give Me this courageously and I will grant the desires
of your heart.'

" Jesus seemed to ask the following : (i) perfect denial of
the eyes, (2) the bearing of little pains, (3) much prayer for
strength, (4) a review of each half day at examen to see if
this resolution has been kept.

" My whole soul shrank from this life — ' no human comfort

152 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

ever.' But with His grace, for I know my own weakness
too well, I promised to do all He asked, and lying on the
ground, I asked Him to nail me to my cross and never again
permit me to come down from it. Fiat." (loth July, 1913.)

" Last night I rose at one a.m. and went down to the
Church, renewing before the Crucifix my desire and promise
absolutely ' to surrender all human comfort and embrace
instead every possible pain and discomfort.' With my arms
round the cross, I begged Jesus to give me His courage and
strength to do what He asks from me. I realised that if
I prayed when tempted to give in, grace would come to my
help." (27th January, 1914.)

' My way is sure.' I think I can say now without a
shade of doubt or hesitation that the path by which Jesus
wants me to walk is that of absolute abandonment of all human
comfort and pleasure and the embracing as far as I can of
every discomfort and pain. Every time I see a picture of
the crucifixion or a cross, I feel strangely affected and drawn
to the life of immolation in a strange way. The heroism
of Jesus appeals to me ; His ' naked crucifixion ' calls to
me and it gives me great consolation and peace to offer
myself to Him on the cross for this perpetual living
crucifixion. How often does He not seem to say to me
in prayer, ' I would have you strip yourself of all things —
every tiny particle of self-indulgence, and this ever and
always ? Give Me all and I will make you a great saint.'
This then is the price of my life-long yearning for
sanctification. O Jesus, I am so weak, help me to give
You all and to do it now." (8th May, 1914.)

" During meditation Jesus made known to me a new
life which He wants me to aim at in future, a life in which
I am to seek only suffering, weariness and pain.

(1) He will send me many little bodily pains which I am
to bear with joy, not to seek to get rid of them or to make
them known to others.

(2) I am to inflict as much pain on myself as I can, hence
I must increase corporal penance.

(3) I am to try and continue this especially when
I am sick.

(4) When fatigued and weary, not to indulge myself or

LIFE OF IMMOLATION 153

rest as I always do ; this will be very hard, but Jesus
wants it.

(5) Since constant work is so painful, I must try never
to be idle one moment.

(6) In a word, because every moment of the life of Jesus
was ' full of pain and suffering/ I must strive ever and always
to make my life resemble His." (Retreat, September, 1915.)

" Meditating on the words of our Lord to Blessed
Margaret Mary : ' I seek for My Heart a victim willing to
sacrifice itself for the accomplishment of My desires,' I begged
Jesus to tell me the meaning of these words. This seemed
to be His answer, written as I knelt before the Tabernacle :

(1) ' The victim whom I seek for must place himself in
My hands that I may do absolutely what I will with him.
Only in this way can My secret plans and designs be carried
out. If the victim deliberately refuses to do what I want,
all My plans may be spoiled.

(2) ' The victim must surrender his body for any suffering
or disease I may please to send, (but not asked for). There
must be no holding back in this surrender through fear of
any sickness whatever. This includes the joyful acceptance
of all little bodily pains and the not seeking remedies for
them, except when absolutely necessary.

(3) ' The victim must give Me his soul that I may try it
by temptation, plunge it in sadness, purify it by interior
trials. In this state its prayer must be, ' Fiat, Thy will
be done/

(4) ' Perfect abandonment to My will in every detail must
be the very life of My victim, the most absolute humble
submission to My pleasure his constant aim. Every little
thing that happens must be recognized and welcomed as
coming straight from My hand. The victim will wait till
the voice of obedience speaks and then do exactly what I
have made known, this promptly, earnestly, gladly because
it is My will. There must be no likes or dislikes ; no wishing
for this thing to end or the other to begin, to be sent here
or there, not to have this work to do, etc. My victim must
have only one wish, one aim, one desire, — to do what I
want in all things ; this I shall make known from moment
to moment.

154 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

(5) ' The victim should strive to carry out what I seem
to ask, fearless of the pain involved, regardless of the possible
consequences, only trusting in My all-powerful help and
protection.

In this way, using My victim as an instrument, I shall
secretly accomplish my desires in souls. My child, do you
accept this office with its conditions ? '

Jesus, most humbly I offer myself as Thy victim. Amen."
September, 1915.)

This last was written just six weeks before he received
his appointment as military chaplain and two years before
God accepted the final holocaust.

(3.) PRIESTLY SANCTITY AND REPARATION.

Fr. Doyle had a very high ideal of the sacerdotal vocation.
This he showed not only by his efforts to procure labourers
for the great harvest, but especially in his own life. His
daily Mass, for instance, was celebrated with a fervour which
was apparent even to strangers. Phrases, such as Kyrie
Eleison, Sursum Corda, Dominus Vobiscum, which by their
very iteration tend to become mechanical utterances, seemed
on his lips to be always full of freshness and meaning.1
Similarly he always strove to prevent the recitation of the
Office from becoming mere routine ; he regarded it as a
minting of merit, every word a precious coin. He so valued
the Sacrament of Penance that he resolved to go daily to
Confession. This lofty priestly ideal is made abundantly
evident by his growing preoccupation with the work of
promoting priestly sanctity and his increasing realisation
that, like the great High Priest, he should be " a propitiation
for the sins of the people." (Hebr. 2. 17.) We see this

I. — It was a similar zeal which led him to publish his little Synopsis of the
Rubrics and Ceremonies of Holy Mass, Washbourne, 1914. One of the booklets
he had projected was "An Explanation of the Priesl's Actions at Mass."
" How many of us," he asks, "could tell why, for example, the priest blesses
the water and not the wine at the Offertory ? " Cf. the Cur£ of Ars : " To say

Mass one ought to be a seraph If we really knew what the Mass is,

we should die !" — Life by Abbe Monnin, Eng. tr. pp. 146 f.

PRIESTLY SANCTITY AND REPARATION 155

idea in the following note : " Sacerdos et victima.1 After
the words, Accipe protestatem off ere sacrificium Dei, the
ordaining bishop adds, Imitamini quod tractatis? Jesus is
a Victim, the priest must be one also. Christ has charged
His priest to renew daily the sacrifice of the Cross ; the
altar is a perpetual Calvary ; the matter of the sacrifice,
the victim, is Himself, His own Body, and He is the sacrificer.
' Receive, O Eternal Father, this unspotted Victim.' Can a
priest worthy of the name stand by and watch this
tremendous act, this heroic sacrifice, without desiring to
suffer and to be immolated also ? ' With Christ I am nailed
to the Cross.' (Gal. 2. 20.) . . . Would that I could
say ' a pure holy spotless victim.' Let Jesus take me in
His hands, as I take Him in mine, to do as He wills with
. me." This idea is quite scriptural. " I beseech you,"
writes S. Paul,3 " that you present your bodies a living
sacrifice, holy, pleasing unto God." " Be you also," says
S. Peter (i. 2, 5), "as living stones built up, a spiritual house,
a holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices acceptable
to God by Jesus Christ." This association of priesthood
and sacrifice applies also to those who are not priests, to all
the faithful, who constitute " a chosen generation, a kingly
priesthood, a holy nation, a purchased people." (/ Peter
2. 9.) " Pray, Brothers," says the priest at Mass, " that
the sacrifice which is mine and yours may be acceptable to
God the Father Almighty." And all through the Canon of
the Mass the words emphasise the intimate union between
celebrant and people in the great mystery which is being
enacted. The assistants join not only in offering up the
Divine Victim but also, as a water-drop in wine, in offering
themselves as ' a living sacrifice/4

I. — Priest and Victim.

2. — -Receive power to offer the sacrifice of God. Imitate what you handle
(i.e. the instruments of sacrifice).

3. — Rom. 12. i. Cf. Prat, Thdologie de saint Paul, i. 308 ff.

4. — As the ideas of Soeur Gertrude Marie were so appreciated and propagated
by Fr. Doyle, we may refer here to her method of hearing1 Mass. — Sister
Gertrude Mary (Eng. trans. 1915 of abridged French edition) pp. 107-111.
" I ask of Jesus to place my soul, and all those whom I am recommending »o
Him at the Holy Sacrifice, upon the paten, and in the chalice, so that this dear
Saviour may deign to offer us all to His Father. The matter of the Sacrifice is
prepared. I must offer myself also to be wholly immolated . . . ." Compare
what S. Francis de Sales says to a correspondent : " Every day I offer you on
the altar with the Son of God." — Letters to Persons in Religion, Eng. trans.
(Mackay) 19018 p. 26. Also Imitation of Christ (iv. 8, i) : " You also ought to
offer yourself freely to Me every day in the Mass as a pure and holy offering."

156 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

Thus the Sacrifice of the Mass is the living source from
which our reparation derives its efficacy and inspiration.
Co-operation in the great mystery of the Redemption, says
the foundress of the Congregation de 1' Adoration Reparatrice,
is " the act of the Sacrifice of the Mass continued by the
members of the Saviour at every moment of the day and
night."1 And this ideal of co-sacrifice with Christ leads
naturally from an appreciation of the sublime function of
the priesthood to the idea of a spiritual crusade, extending
and supplementing the sacerdotal work and atoning for the
inevitable negligences and even scandals which occur in its
performance. This is the devotion which, during the last
three years of his life, strongly took hold of Fr. Doyle, namely,
prayer for priests to aid them in their ministry and reparation
in atonement for the negligences and infidelities of those
whose calling is so high. We have already seen how earnestly
he besought prayers for his own work.2 S. Teresa exhorts
her nuns to this apostolate of prayer. ' Try to be such,"
she says,3 " that we may be worthy to obtain these two
favours from God : (i) that among the numerous learned
and religious (priests) whom we have, there may be many
who possess the requisite abilities . . . and that our Lord
would improve those that are not so well prepared, since
one perfect man can do more than many imperfect ones ;
(2) that our Lord may protect them in their great warfare,
so that they may escape the many dangers of the world."
She considered that her Carmelites, enjoying the seclusion
and immunity of the cloister, owed this duty to the Church
Militant. This ideal is still more conspicuously enshrined in
some recent religious institutes, particularly in the Society
of the Daughters of the Heart of Jesus. These sisters are
" to ask by fervent prayers, by sufferings and even by their
lives, if necessary, for the outpouring of grace on the Church,
on the Catholic priesthood and on religious orders." In
his Brief to Mgr. van den Berghe, I4th March, 1872, Pius IX

i. — Mgr. d'Hulst, Vie de la V<fn. Marie-Tercse, 1917 <*, p. 268; Eng. trans, by
Lady Herbert (Life of Mother Mary Teresa, 1899), p. 168.

2. — See p. 65.

3. — Way of Perfection, ch. 3.

4.— Abbe L. Laplace, La Mere Marie de Jt/sus (Marie Deluil-Martiny), 1894 ;
new ed. 1906, p. 283.

PRIESTLY SANCTITY AND REPARATION 157

welcomed the new foundation. " It is not without con
solation of heart," said the Pope,1 " that we have heard
of your plan to arouse and spread in your country that
admirable spirit of sacrifice which God apparently wishes
to oppose to the ever increasing impiety of our time. We
see with pleasure that a great number of persons are every
where devoting themselves entirely to God, offering Him
even their life in ardent prayer, to obtain the deliverance
and happy preservation of His Vicar and the triumph of
the Church, to make reparation for the outrages committed
against the divine Majesty, and especially to atone for the
profanations of those who, though the salt of the earth, lead
a life which is not in conformity with their dignity."

The seal of the Church has therefore been set on this
apostolate of prayer and reparation. There is, needless to
say, no question of pride or presumption, no attempting to
judge others.2 It is merely the just principle that those
who are specially shielded and privileged should aid those
active religious — priests, brothers and sisters — who have
great responsibilities and a difficult mission, and should by
their faithfulness atone for the shortcomings of those who
are exposed to greater temptations. " More than ever," says
Cardinal Mermillod,3 " is it necessary to console the wounded
Heart of Jesus, to pray for the priesthood, and by immolation
and adoration, without measure or truce to give our Saviour
testimony of affection and fidelity." ' There is much which
needs reparation," writes Mgr. d' Hulst,4 " even in the
sanctuary and the cloisters, and indeed especially there.
Our Lord expects compensation from souls who have
not abused special graces." " How grievous are these
scandals ! " he exclaims in another letter. " Only the

I. — Ibid., pp. 2l8f.

2. — "You should love them [priests] therefore by reason of the virtue and
dignity of the Sacrament, and by reason of that very virtue and dignity you
should hate the defects of those who live miserably in sin, but not on that
account appoint yourselves their judges, which I forbid, because they are My
Christs and you ought to love and reverence the authority which I have given

them Their sins indeed should displease you and you should hate them,

and strive with love and holy prayer to reclothe them, washing away their
foulness with your tears." — S. Catherine of Siena, Dialogue, Eng. trans.
Thorold, 1907 - , pp. 256 f.

3. — Laplace, La Mere Marie de Jdsus, 1906, p. 288.

4. — Baudrillart, Vie de Mgr. d' Hulst, ii. 523; The Way of the Heart: Letters
of Direction by Mgr. d' Hulst, Eng. trans. 1913, p. 96, (see also p. 25).

158 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

thought of reparation can soften the bitterness of them. To
take expiation on oneself is to be like Him of whom it is
said : Vere languores nostros ipse tulit et dolores nostros ipse
portavit.1 If this thought had thoroughly entered into us,
without running after great penances, should we not give
quite another reception than we usually do to sufferings,
vexations, and the dulness and bitterness of our poor lives ?
And then the thought of reparation is so beneficial to poor
souls like ours ! It is a great mistake to think it is the
privilege of the perfect. On the contrary, it pleases our
Lord to open up these horizons to the weak, to give them
courage by turning their attention away from their own
wretchedness. If I am incapable of satisfying God in myself,
I will try to make up to Him for others. If I cannot lament
my own ingratitude sufficiently, I will learn to do so by
lamenting for others." These consoling words will help to
convince those whose ideal of holiness is unconsciously
individualistic and self-centred, that the ideal of reparation
by no means implies the possession or the delusion of
perfection. Of course in all this there may creep in some
spirit of censorious self-sufficiency, though indeed there is
not much danger of it in the hidden humble lives of those
' victim-souls ' who are devoted to the secret apostolate of
prayer for God's ministers and reparation for those scandals
and infidelities which occur from time to time in the Church.
It has, therefore, seemed right to show briefly here, by way
of preface to Fr. Doyle's private notes, how explicitly this
work of priestly sanctification and reparation has been
recognised by the Church and adopted by saints and
mystics.2

i. — "Surely He hath borne our infirmities and carried our sorrows."—
Jsaias 53. 4.

2. — Compare the message to Gemma Galgani : "I have need of a great
expiation specially for the sins and sacrileges by which ministers of the
sanctuary are offending Me."— Life by Fr. Germanus, Eng. trans. 1913, p. 325.
Also Soeur Gertrude Marie : " I wish to pray and suffer for priests. I wish
that all holy souls, especially religious, had this attraction for the sanctification
of priests. My God, choose souls who love and understand the importance of
this apostolate ! Bless and make fruitful this apostolate so dear to Your
Heart ! " — Legueu, Une mystique de nos jours, Angers, 1910, p. 331. And Mere
Marie de Je'sus : "I think that I would willingly give my life that our Lord
might find in His priests what He expects from them ; I would give it that
only one of them might fully realise the divine plan. Of course there are those
who do, but I mean, that one more should do so my life would willingly be
given." — Laplace, p. 223.

PRIESTLY SANCTITY AND REPARATION 159

This ideal appealed greatly to Fr. Doyle. On 28th July,
1914, the anniversary of his Ordination, he wrote : "At
Exposition Jesus spoke clearly in my soul, ' Do the hard
thing for My sake because it is hard.' I also felt urged to
perform all my priestly duties with great fervour to obtain
grace for other priests to do the same, e.g. the Office, that
priests may say theirs well." On the Feast of St. Teresa,
October, 1914, there is this simple but eloquent record :
" Last night I rose at one a m. and walked two miles bare
footed in reparation for the sins of priests to the chapel at
Murrough (Co. Clare),1 where I made the Holy Hour. God
made me realise the merit of each step, and I understood
better how much I gain by not reading the paper ; each
picture, each sentence sacrificed means additional merit.
I felt a greater longing for self-inflicted suffering and a deter
mination to do more ' little things.' ' During his 1914
retreat this ideal came home to him as a special mission.
' The great light of this retreat, clear and persistent," he
writes on ist December, " has been that God has chosen
me, in His great love and through compassion for my
weakness and misery, to be a victim of reparation for the
sins of priests especially ; that hence my life must be different
in the matter of penance, self-denial and prayer, from the
lives of others not given this special grace — they may
meritoriously do what I cannot ; that unless I constantly
live up to the life of a willing victim, I shall not please our
Lord nor ever become a saint — it is the price of my
sanctification ; that Jesus asks this from me always and in
every lawful thing, so that I can sum up my life ' sacrifice
always in all things.' '

On the following Christmas Day (1914) Fr. Doyle records
a further step. " During midnight Mass at Dalkey Convent
I made the oblation of myself as a member of the League
of Priestly Sanctity. During my preparation beforehand a
sudden strong conviction took possession of me that by

doing so, I was about to begin the ' work ' which had

spoken of. Our Lord gave me great graces during the Mass
and urged me more strongly than ever to throw myself into
the work of my sanctification, that so I may draw many

j. — He was giving a Mission here.

160 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

other priests to Him. He wants the greatest possible fervour
and exactness in all priestly duties."

The League of Priestly Sanctity, to which reference is
here made, was founded in the North of France in the year
1901, under the direction of Pere Feyerstein, S.J. (f 1911).
Fr. Doyle became Director-General for Ireland and strove
to spread the League among Irish priests. In an explanatory
leaflet which he issued, it is described as " an association of
priests, both secular and regular, who, in response to the
desire of the Sacred Heart, strive to help each other to become
holy and thus render themselves worthy of their sublime
calling and raise the standard of sacerdotal sanctity." Two
special objects are enumerated : " (i) The assistance of
priests, and especially those of the League, in living a life
worthy of their high calling. (2) The atonement for outrages
to the Sacred Heart in the Sacrament of His love. This
Sacrament, needless to say, is committed to priests in a
special manner ; and there ought to be a priestly expiation
for irreverence, negligence, and particularly sacrilegious
Masses, which the Divine Heart has to endure from the
very ministers of His altar."1

Fr. Doyle had this League very much at heart and had
prepared several schemes for its spread and improvement
when his appointment as military chaplain interrupted the
work. But while engaged in this novel sphere of activity,
the ideal of a life of reparation remained uppermost in his
mind and once more the special form which it took was
expiation for the negligences and sins of God's anointed. He
recorded this resolution on 26th July, 1916 : ''During a visit
our Lord seemed to urge me not to wait till the end of the
war, but to begin my life of reparation at once, in some
things at least. I have begun to keep a book of acts done
with this intention. He asked me for these sacrifices, (i)
To rise at night in reparation for priests who lie in bed
instead of saying Mass. (2) At all costs to make the 50,000
aspirations. (3) To give up illustrated papers. (4) To kiss
floor of churches (5) Breviary always kneeling. (6) Mass

i. — Pius X. (Rescript of l6th Dec. 1908, and Brief of gth July, 1909) granted
a plenary indulgence once a month to priests who undertook this oblation of
priestly reparation.

PRIESTLY SANCTITY AND REPARATION 161

with intense devotion. The Blessed Cure d' Ars used to
kneel without support while saying the Office. Could
not I ? "

" This is my vocation," he notes on 8th February, 1917,
" reparation and penance for the sins of priests ; hence the
constant urging of our Lord to generosity." Appropriately
enough the last entry in his diary was made on 28th July,
1917, the tenth anniversary of his ordination. Fr. Doyle's
last recorded thought was about his sacrificial ideal of priestly
immolation.

" The reading of La vie rfyaratrice1 has made me long
more to take up this life in earnest. I have again offered
myself to Jesus as His Victim to do with me absolutely as
He pleases. I will try to take all that happens, no matter
from whom it comes, as sent to me by Jesus and will bear
suffering, heat, cold, etc., with joy as part of my immolation,
in reparation for the sins of priests. From this day I shall
try bravely to bear all ' little pains ' in this spirit. A strong
urging to this."

(4.) HOLY FOLLIES.

Neither human nor divine love expresses itself with
mechanical precision and calculated nicety. The outpouring
of the heart cannot be regulated as it were with a tap ; the
very fervour of devotion scorns all attempts at impersonal
measurement. Every absorbing emotion seems tinged with
foolishness or foolhardiness to one who is outside it and
untouched by it. " He saved others," said the wise men
on Calvary, " but Himself He cannot save." (S. Matthew
27. 42.) And did not Peter himself take his Master aside
and rebuke Him ? (5. Matthew 16. 22.) Only when the
suffering Christ turned and looked at him, did Peter, weeping
bitterly, understand the foolishness of the cross. (5. Luke
22. 61.) We, too, with our averaged precepts of prudence,
shall often feel tempted to take God's saints aside and rebuke
them. That is because we cannot catch that look divine

i. — By Canon Leroux de Bretagne (Descl^e, 1909).
L

162 . FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

which flashed on them ; we attend more to the exterior
expressions of holiness than to its interior intensity. The
significance of the lives of the saints does not lie in the fact
that they did foolish or even whimsical things, which they
themselves (like Ignatius after Manresa) often regretted ; it
lies rather in the inner love and heroism of which these are
the manifestations. Such acts performed under over
whelming inspiration serve, like the stigmata and trances of
some ecstatica, to show forth, by their striking singularity,
how high our nature can be raised and how deeply the human
heart can be stirred by the reality of God's presence. It
would be hard to justify by general principles many incidents
in the lives of the saints ; we are not called upon to do so.
Such things cannot be generalised and sometimes they are
certainly unwise and exaggerated.1 In altitudes whither
most of us never penetrate, even the saints are but novices
and pioneers ; what wonder if at times their steps are clumsy
and unsure ? Just as ordinary men need a confessor who
will spur and stimulate them, so the saints need a director
to check and restrain their impetuous ardour.

These few remarks will help to place in their proper
setting some incidents in the life of Fr. Doyle, most of
which, were it not for a chance-written document penned
under what he believed to be God's inspiration, we should
hardly suspect. It was with a firm faith in God's special
providence and mission that he strove to ignore physical
exhaustion and illness.2 During his 1915 retreat he wrote :
" I think our Lord is allowing my present state of lassitude
and suffering and at the same time urging me to heroic
generosity, in order to make me rely more on His strength.
Humanly speaking, I ought to rest and indulge myself, I
feel so run down ; but Jesus does not want this. I must
cast prudence to the winds, go ahead blindly, following the
inspirations of grace and not counting the cost. I am
convinced that my health will not suffer, as past experience

I. — " I make so bold as to say that a certain amount of Christian language
in that matter of mortification is both metaphorical and hyperbolical. I go
even further and say that, besides exaggerated language, there has been
occasionally, or even frequently, exaggerated acting in individual cases. The
Church is not responsible for the over-fervid behaviour of some of her best
children." — Abbot A. Vonier, The Human Soul, 1913, p. 126.

2. — See also p. 143.

HOLY FOLLIES 163

has shown me that I am always better when giving Him
all. Besides would it not be far better to die than to go on
fighting against Him as I have done for years ? " In this
intimate colloquy written to reassure himself, we have his
own best defence. He alone felt ' the inspirations of grace '
and had the evidence of what ' Jesus wanted ' ; he who
saved others, refused to save himself. A month later (20th
October, 1915), we find him struggling hard against all
prudential concessions to illness : " Feeling very unwell for
the past few days, I gave way to self-indulgence in food and
sleep. Jesus has made it very clear to me that this has not
pleased Him : ' I have sent you this suffering that you may
suffer more, not that you should try to avoid it.' He made
me put on the chain again and promise Him, as long as I
can hold out, not to take extra sleep etc. Great peace and
contentment is the result." And, after all, was not the result
his justification ? God wants us to serve Him in peace
and contentment ; we do not all attain thereto in the
same way.1

It was especially the night-time that Fr. Doyle chose for
self-inflicted suffering. Two quotations, in addition to those
already given, will show us how he thus combined prayer
and penance.

" Last night I rose at twelve and knelt in the cellar for
an hour to suffer from the cold. It was a hard fight to do
so, but Jesus helped me. I said my rosary with arms
extended. At the third mystery the pain was so great that
I felt I could not possibly continue ; but at each ave I prayed

i. — Compare the general principles advocated by the saints. "The poor
soul must not be stifled. Let those who thus suffer realise that they are ill ...
Take care of the body for the love of God, because at many other times the
body must serve the soul. Let recourse be had to some holy recreations such
as conversation, walking in the fields, as the confessor may advise. — S. Teresa,
Life, xi. 23-24. "If the work that you are doing is necessary to you or very
useful for God's glory, I prefer you to suffer the burden of work than that of
fasting. This is the view ot the Church which dispenses even from the
prescribed fasting those who are doing work useful for the service of God and
the neighbour." — S. Francis de Sales, Introduction to Devout Life, iii. 23.
"The works of penance and of other corporal exercises should be observed
merely as a means and not as the fundamental affection of the soul. . . . No
one should judge that he has greater perfection, because he performs great
penances and gives himself in excess to the slaying of his body, than he who
does less ; inasmuch as neither virtue nor merit consists therein. For other
wise he would be in an evil case who from some legitimate reason was unable
to do actual penance." — S. Catherine of Siena, Dialogue, trans. Thorold, 19072,
pp. 56, 58. For S. Ignatius see pp. 165, 169, 171 ; S. Thomas, p. 169.

164 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

for strength and was able to finish it. This has given me
great consolation by showing the many hard things I could
do with the help of prayer." (22nd January, 1915.)

" Last night I rose at twelve, tied my arms in the form
of a cross and remained in the chapel till three a.m. I was
fiercely tempted not to do so, the devil suggesting that, as
I had a cough, it was madness and would unfit me for the
coming mission. Though I shivered with cold, I am none
the worse this morning, in fact, the cough is better, proving
that Jesus is pleased with these ' holy imprudences.' At the
end of an hour I was cold and weary, I felt I could not possibly
continue ; but I prayed and got wonderful strength to
persevere till the end of the three hours. This has shown
me what I might do and how, with a little determined effort,
I could overcome the greatest repugnances and seeming
impossibilities. (27th September, 1915.)

It seems almost a desecration to lift the veil and to disclose
aught that happened at these nocturnal interviews between
Master and disciple. A citation from a very precious and
intimate paper will suffice.1 " He seems pleased when I am
alone in the chapel if I kneel close to Him, uncover my breast
and ask Him again to pour His grace and love into my heart .
I often press my throbbing heart to the door of the
Tabernacle to let Him hear its beats of love ; and once, to
ease the pain of love, I tried with a penknife to cut the sweet
name of Jesus on my breast. It was not a success, for I
suppose my courage failed; I did try a heated iron, but
it caused an ugly sore."

i.— This little incident from the life of the Venerable Marie-TeVese, foundress
of the Sisters of Perpetual Adoration, may be quoted as showing how closely
similar are the spontaneous outbursts of souls afire with love." " I was speaking
aloud to our Saviour, in a transport of love more burning than fever. And as
I was lovingly reproaching Him for having deceived me in my expectation in
not showing me His Crown [the relic of Notre-Dame], I thought I heard these
words in my heart : ' My blood flows in your heart every morning ; take the
blood of your heart, it is Mine, and saturate therewith this little crown '—my
crucifix had a very small crown of thorns. I could not have resisted, I think ;
I took my penknife made an incision and I marked with my blood not only the

crown but all the wounds of Christ " — F«?by Mgr. d'Hulst, 19176, p. 84 ;

Life of Mother Mary Teresa (tr. by Lady Herbert, 1899). p. 56. It were surely
dull-witted and materialistic to apply mechanical meticulous criticism to such
dramatically heroic intensity of devotion. It is not the mere physical pain but
the exteriorising of intensely realistic faith which merits attention ; just as
when S. Gertrude "snatched the iron nails from a crucifix which she always
kept near her and replaced them by nails of sweet-smelling cloves." — Life and
Revelations, 1865, p. 225.

HOLY FOLLIES 165

Some other heroic acts may be instanced.1 During one
freezing winter, having previously bound himself by vow, he
set his alarum for three o'clock and slipped out of the house
in his nightshirt. He then stood up to his neck in a pond,
praying for sinners.2 Sometimes he turned the ordinary
discipline into a horrifying scourging by using a heavy chain
or even branches with long strong thorns.3 He constantly
wore the ordinary chain, and at least once he heated it, not
red hot of course, and put it round his body so that the
points raised blisters. Several times he undressed and rolled
in furze bushes ; " the pain of the thousands of little pricks,"
he confesses, " is intense for days afterwards." On one or
two occasions he forced his way through a thorn hedge and
was in consequence terribly torn and wounded. Walking
barefoot on stones and nettles was a comparatively frequent
achievement. Once during a retreat at Delgany in 1911,
he had a severe " accident,"4 being badly stung by nettles,
so much so that the doctor took a very serious view of the
case. Fortunately we have the real explanation which may
be best given in his own words :

" It really was not an accident. That day the love of
Jesus Crucified was burning in my heart with the old longing
to suffer much for Him and even give Him my life by
martyrdom. This thought was in my mind when, crossing
a lonely field late that evening, I came across a forest of old

i. — While on the continent where no one knew him Fr. Doyle subjected him
self to a big humiliation in church: "I used to go into the church, kiss the
floor before the congregation, and pray with my arms outstretched. I felt
people thought I was mad, and I nearly died of shame." Cf. p. 160.

2. — Apparently he did this on more than one occasion. Here is an entry
under the date nth April, 1915 : " Got into pond at two." St. Ignatius once
did the same to convert a sinner.

3. — One such act seems quite indefensible as Fr. Doyle himself admitted :
" Once I made a discipline with some safety razor blades. I admit this was
foolish and might have been rather serious, as some blows cut to the very bone.
The blood ran down my body till a small pond had formed* on the floor and
through prudence I ceased, but the blood flowed a long time and I suffered
much from the pain of the cuts." St. Ignatius says in the Additions to the
First Week {Spiritual Exercises, p. 31) : "What seems to be most convenient
and safe in the matter of penance is that the pain should be sensible to the flesh
and not penetrate to the bone, so that pain and not sickness should be the
result. For which purpose it seems to be more convenient to discipline oneself
with small cords which cause pain exteriorly, than to do so in any other way
from which may result any notable injury to the health."

4. — The nuns to whom he was giving the retreat were under the impression
that he had taken internally some medicine meant for external application.

166 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

nettles. Here was a chance ! Had not the saints suffered
in this way for Him with joy and gladness of heart ? I
undressed and walked up and down until my whole body
was one big blister, smarting and stinging. Words could
never describe the sweet but horrible agony from that moment
till far into the next day. Not for a moment did I close
my eyes, for as the poison worked into the blood the fever
mounted and the pain increased. Then began what I can
only call a flogging from head to foot with red-hot needles.
It started at the feet and crept up to my face and back again
so regularly that I almost thought that some unseen hand
was at work. More than once I knelt by my bed and offered
Him my life, as I felt I could not live, and then in my weak
ness begged Him to have pity on me, and yet the moment
after He gave me strength to murmur, ' Still more, dear
Lord, a thousand times more for Your dear love.'

" Then suddenly when the pain was greatest, an extra
ordinary peace, happiness and joy filled my soul ; and though
I saw nothing with the eyes of either soul or body, I had the
conviction that Jesus was standing by me — the sure feeling
one has when a person is in a darkened room though one
cannot see him. What took place I cannot say, but it seemed
to me as if He was thanking me for trying to bear the agony
for Him, and then He seemed to ask me what I would have
from Him in return. ' Fill my heart with Your love, dearest
Lord/ I remember saying. And then I lay motionless, all
suffering seemed to have ceased while Jesus — I can only
express it in this way — took His own Heart and poured
Jts love into mine till It almost seemed to be empty.

" One thing more I remember saying, ' Lord, if it is really
You, give me a proof of Your goodness by curing me in
the morning.' When I tried to rise, my legs felt paralyzed,
I staggered like a drunken man to the convent, I could only
mumble the words of Mass. But the moment His Sacred
Body touched my lips, I felt a change come over me, and I
was actually able to give the morning lecture as usual. I
suffered a good deal from the after-effects, but I believe
that Jesus worked a miracle."

Such an account seems to disarm all criticism. " Here
was a chance ! " His love for suffering was as irrepressible

HOLY FOLLIES 167

as a boy's instinct for a prank.1 To frame regulations for
one so afire with the love of Christ is like reducing heroism
to rule-of -thumb. A war-charger is not to be trained like
a dray-horse, nor can a tiger be set mouse-catching with
his weaker brother the cat. Fr. Doyle knew quite as much
about the virtue of prudence as the reader of these lines.2
It was quite calmly and deliberately that, like many of the
saints, he ' cast it to the winds.' He held that God was
inspiring him to a certain course of action and helping him
therein. And where is the evidence with which we can
gainsay him ?3

In order to appreciate in their true perspective these
exploits of Fr. Doyle, it will be helpful to glance at some
similar incidents in the life of another Jesuit. Fr. Paul
Segneri (f 1694) used to walk barefooted to his missions,
often traversing over eight hundred miles a year in this way.
His invariable custom was to discipline himself twice or
three times a day ; for over thirty years he slept on bare
boards, his sleep never exceeding six hours. Several times
he rolled himself naked in the snow and at least once he
threw himself naked among thorns ; as a final refinement of
cruelty, he used to cause boiling wax to drop all over his
body. 4 During his missions he was not content with
scourging himself publicly — as was then the custom — with

i. — Similarly we read in Lady Lovat's Clare Vaughan (new ed., New York,
1896, p. 26) : " We happened to be passing through a stubble field, and breaking
off suddenly from what she had been talking about, she cried : ' I have a
splendid idea ! Supposing we take off our shoes and stockings and walk bare
foot through the stubble field?" It was no sooner said than done ; and I can
see now the calm enjoyment with which Clare walked up and down those cruel
many-bristling thorns, . . . till at last she was obliged to succumb and allow
the poor bleeding feet to be tied up. Another day we came across a flourishing
family of nettles, and she instantly seized hold of a large bunch in order to
discipline herself with them at leisure on her return home."

2. — See for example his views and advice to others, pp. 108, 211 ff.

3. — It is a curious fact that often in the case of favoured souls this holy
indiscretion does not seem to produce the deleterious effects which might be
expected. " In a greater degree even than the heart," remarks Pere Suau, S. J.,
"the soul that is guided by God has reasons which human intellect is ignorant
of ; and when grace inspires anyone to suffer by way of reparation, that which
tends to kill gives life and that which tends to heal brings on death." — Life of
Mother Mary of Jesus (Eng. trans, by Fr. Gallery), 1913, p. 207.

4. — The Lives of Fr. P. Segneri, Fr. P. Pinamontt, and the Ven. John de Britto,
London 1851, pp. 19, 143, 146, 149. He always entertained "a burning desire
to shed his blood and give up his life in honour of Christ " and with this hope
volunteered for the East Indies, (p. 16). "With regard to his mortifications, he
asked and obtained general permission from his confessor to use them as far as
he thought he could without considerable prejudice to his health." (p. 15).

168 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

an iron discipline," he invented another instrument yet
more barbarous, which was a circular piece of cork armed
with about fifty sharp points. With this he used to strike
violently his naked breast during the last penitential
procession, and on other occasions when he was anxious to
conquer the obstinacy of such as persisted in refusing to
make peace with their enemies. So much blood was by
this means drawn from his veins, that in course of time the
physicians, to obviate the danger of his life, found it necessary
to oblige him to lay aside the practice."1

Exaggerated and imprudent ? Perhaps. But let us not
be more impatiently ready to condemn the few rare instances
of indiscreet fervour than we are to denounce the widespread
worship of ease and comfort. " Let not him that eateth,"
says S. Paul (Rom. 14. 3), " despise him that eateth not ;
and he that eateth not, let him not judge him that eateth."
There is need for large-hearted tolerance even among those
who, each in his own way, are following Christ. There are
indeed dangers in all extremes ; an orgy of blood-letting
may be morbid and self-willed,2 just as what is called
common-sense goodness may be merely an excuse for slothful
mediocrity. In one that is filled with a great ideal there is
always something extreme, an impetuous enthusiasm whose
expression may at times be gauche or reckless. "He that
loves truly," says A Kempis,3 " flies, runs and is always
full of joy ; he is free and will not be held back. He gives
all for all and has all in all, because he rests in One

i. — Ibid., p. 27.

2. — So Fr. Doyle discouraged ' frenzy.' — See p. 213.

3. — Imitation of Christ iii. 5, 4. Compare these reflections of Fr. Paul
Segneri (on I. Cor., 4. 10) : " There is a great difference between being- wise
in Christ and being a fool for Christ. Both are good ; but the apostle was not
satisfied with the former and preferred the latter. There is a worldly wisdom
which makes a man wicked ; there is a wisdom in Christ which does not
prevent a man from being just ; there is a foolishness for Christ which makes a
man holy. . . . Now for my conclusion. 1 shall never accomplish much if I
measure everything by the rules of singular prudence and exact circumspection.
I shall be good ; but I shall never be a saint. . . . What shall we decide to
do ? Why so much examination ? Why so much consideration ? If we do not
succeed, what shall we have done ? Folly, yes ; hut folly committed for Christ.

That is enough for us We should therefore become foolish for Christ,

which means : Let us work simply for Christ, look only at Christ, have Him
for the sole end of our works, then we shall commit foolishness and we shall be
saints."— " Thoughts during Prayer" in Lights in Prayer (Quarterly Series)
PP- 305-309-

HOLY FOLLIES 169

alone. . . . Love knows no bounds but burns with
boundless fervour. Love feels no burden, counts no cost,
longs to do even more than it is able for and never pleads
impossibility, because everything then seems lawful and
possible. Hence a lover of God is strong enough for every
thing and carries out many things where he that has no love
fails and falls to the ground."

The instances of Fr. Segneri and Fr. Doyle show us the
wise latitude with which S. Ignatius provides for different
types of holiness in his Company. Not that each one may
seek out his own path according to his freak or fancy, not
that one's own subjective impulses and experiences are to
decide the will of the Holy Spirit. S. Ignatius lays down
a wise rule which may be given here by way of fitting
conclusion :

'The way of living, as to exterior things, .... is
common ; nor are there customary penances or afflictions
of the body to be undergone by way of obligation. But
each one may choose those which, with the superior's
approval, will seem to be suitable for his greater spiritual
progress, and which for the same end superiors may impose
on them."1

i. — Summariuni Constitulioiium S.J., n. 4. S. Francis de Sales says
similarly : " Abstinence which is practised against obedience takes away the
sin from the body to put it in the heart. Let her give her attention to cutting
off her own will and she will soon quit these phantoms of sanctity in which she
reposes so superstitiously. She has consecrated her corporal strength to God ;
it is not for her to break it down unless God so order it ; and she will never
learn what God orders save by obedience to the creatures whom the Creator
has given her for her guidance." — Letters to Persons in Religion, Eng. trans.
(Mackay), 19018, p. 183. "It is advisable never to adopt bodily mortifications
without the direction of our spiritual guide." — Introduction to Devout Life, iii. 23.
Also S. Thomas: "The chastisement of the body, for example by vigils and
lasts, is not acceptable to God except in so far as it is a work of virtue ; i.e., in
so far as it is done with due discretion, so that passion is restrained and nature
not overburdened." — Summa, 2. 2, q 88, a 2, ad 3.

170 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

CHAPTER VIII.

SPIRITUAL DIRECTION

(i.) His OWN SOUL.

FR. Doyle had himself so much direct spiritual experience
and such great reliance on the inspirations of the
Holy Spirit, that any direction might seem in his
case superfluous. Yet this would be a misinterpretation. It
is obvious, of course, that a fully formed Jesuit, after years
of prayer, instruction and reading, and a complete course
of theology, .is not in need of that minute guidance and
detailed help which are usually necessary for beginners in
the spiritual life and for timorous scrupulous souls. But it
is a distinctive mark of Catholic spirituality, as opposed to
all systems of private judgement or self -guided mysticism,
that inner experience must be brought to the test of objective
dogma, and also should be moulded by that comprehensive
tradition of practical religion which is embodied in the
wonderful structure of Catholic discipline and direction.
There is nothing repressive or mechanically imposed in all
this ; it is only misguided individualism which is eliminated ;
when freakishness is obviated, liberty is increased. Within
the great corporate life of Catholicism there is ample room
for every individuality.1 How marvellously diverse and
manifold are the saints, and yet they have an unmistakable
family likeness. They thought and spoke of God just as
we do ; their outward religious life was practically the same
as ours ; they shared the same Faith and partook of the
same Sacraments. Thus we see that, apart altogether from

i. — The sense of spiritual freedom is the first feeling of converts from
Protestantism. " When my conversion to the Catholic Church was accomplished,
I was filled with the happy consciousness, Now at last I am free. Protestants
will very probably have supposed the contrary." — Albert von Ruville, Back to
Holy Church (1910), p. 127. " I can register one impression at once, curiously

inconsistent with my preconceived notions on the subject I have been

overwhelmed with the feeling ot liberty, the glorious liberty of the sons of
God."— R. A. Knox, A Spiritual Aeneid, 1918, p. 247. So also Fr. Maturin,
Price of Unity, 1912, p. 241 ; and Mgr. Benson, Confessions of a Convert, p. 160.

Fr. William Doyle, S.J., Aberdeen, 1908.

HIS OWN SOUL 171

any question of individual direction, there is in the Church
an immense amount of objective guidance and help. Every
one of us has to kneel at the feet of God's minister for
absolution ; we all gather round the same altar of sacrifice
and kneel in the glad presence of our eucharistic Lord. And
we thence draw not only supernatural aid, but also, by the
loving economy of the Incarnation, natural help and
encouragement. Without frequent confession and absolution,
how could we keep our consciences pure and healthy and
our souls refreshed with God's forgiveness P1 How could
religious life, naturally so irksome, bring such peace and
happiness, were it not for the closeness of the Real
Presence ? How wonderfully are our Lord's words ful
filled : " Come to Me all you that labour and are burdened,
and I will refresh you. Take My yoke upon you . . . and
you shall find rest to your souls." (5. Matthew n. 28.)

Fr. Doyle, therefore, had the sacramental helps and
disciplinary guidance common to all faithful Catholics.
Moreover, he had studied theology and was well read in
ascetical and devotional literature. But all this did not
dispense him from seeking the approval of his confessor or
director. St. Ignatius says distinctly to his subjects :2

' They must not conceal any temptation, which they do
not disclose to the spiritual father or confessor or superior ;
indeed it ought to be most agreeable to them that their
whole soul should be entirely manifest to them. They must
disclose not only their defects, but also their penances or
mortifications and all their devotions and virtues, with a pure
will desiring to be directed by them, if perchance they deviate
from what is right ; not wishing to be led by their own

i. — " If there were nothing else known to me of the Catholic Church," writes
Dom J. Chapman (Bishop Gore and the Catholic Claims, 1905, p. 120), "but her
system of confession as I know it by experience, it would be enough alone to
prove to me her divine origin." And even William James acknowledges that
by confession " a man's accounts with evil are periodically squared and audited,
so that he may start the clean page with no old debts inscribed ; any Catholic
will tell us how clean and fresh and free he feels after the purging operation. "—
Varieties of Religious Experience, 1902, p. 128. See also the testimonies of Irish
Catholic soldiers later on in this book.

2. — Summarium Constitutionum, n. 41. Cf. n. 48 : " The chastisement of the

body ought not to be immoderate Hence each one should disclose to

his confessor whatever he does in this matter." A similar injunction occurs in
the rule of S. Benedict (ch. 49).

172 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

opinion unless it agrees with the judgement of those whom
they have in the place of Christ our Lord."

In the intimate writings, which formed the basis of our
account of Fr. Doyle's inner life, there are naturally few
references to external direction. But those that do occur
indicate clearly that he always submitted his plans and
penances to a confessor.1 We also know that for several
years he used to go to confession to Fr. Matthew Russell,
whose holiness he esteemed and with whom he liked to have
spiritual talks. Once after confession Fr. Russell turned to
Fr. Doyle and said, " You will go far, my child." When
asked what he meant, he merely repeated, " You will go
far." We may certainly conclude that Fr. Russell knew
many of the secrets of his penitent. Later on, Fr. Doyle
was instructed by the Provincial to submit his penances
and mortifications to a certain Father. Much to Fr. Doyle's
surprise, for he was expecting a drastic curtailment, this
Father approved of his practices with some slight
modifications and told him to follow the inspirations of the
Holy Spirit who was leading him. These indications will
serve to show that, while directing and guiding the souls
of others, Fr. Doyle himself submitted to that divine yet
human scheme whereby men are made their brothers' keepers
and each can find an alter Christus. Not only did he seek
the approval and advice of superiors and confessors, but on
more than one occasion he consulted expert directors and
masters of the spiritual lite.2 'He thus secured that his inner
life was in perfect unison with that unceasing harmony of
holiness which through the ages has been one of the marks
of the true Church 3

i. — See for example p. 146 concerning his proposed vow. Also we find the
following entry in his diary : " Penances allowed, 2nd July, 1914. (i) Discipline
fifteen strokes once a day ; (2) arm-chain till dinner ; (3) waist-chain or hair
cloth an hour daily ; (4) rise for moment at night ; (5) sleep on boards
occasionally ; (6) little butter at breakfast ; (7) none at lunch ; (8) no sweets, etc.,
at meals ; (q) Holy Hour weekly. Revoked in November, 1914."

2. — During- his visit to the Continent in 1912 (see p. 74), Fr. Doyle took the
opportunity of consulting Pere Petit, S.J., and the Abb£ S. Legueu, the director
of Sceur Gertrude-Marie and editor of her autobiography (Une mystique de
nos jours, 1910).

3.— "The real and secure teaching on the subject [of locutions and inspirations]
is, not to give heed to them however plausible they may be, but to be governed
in all by reason and by what the Church has taught and teaches us every
day." — S. John of the Cross, Ascent of Mount Carmel ii. 30, 5.

DIRECTOR OF OTHERS 173

(2.) DIRECTOR OF OTHERS.

Although Fr. Doyle laboured energetically and fruitfully
as a missioner, his real gift and taste lay rather in his work
as director of souls. He preferred dealing directly and
personally with the individual to appealing to crowds,
intensive culture of a few chosen souls rather than slight
impersonal influence on many. He shrank, too, from the
pain of probing into the ulcers of humanity. ' The con
solation of absolving sinners," he says in one of his letters
(1913), " does not lessen the pain of hearing all day a litany
of awful sins and outrages against the good and patient
God. . . . You have guessed rightly the longing of my
heart, namely, to help others to realise the words of Scripture,
' He that is holy, let him be sanctified still.' ' (Apoc.
22. n.) On the other hand, his preference for work among
chosen souls was absolutely removed from anything remotely
approaching snobbery ; his valuation was purely spiritual.
He once referred to a ladies' retreat which he had to give,
as " a job I do not relish — it is too much of a social affair
and not earnest work." He always insisted on " the real
thing " in holiness, the genuine article branded with the
cross ; he had no patience with amateurish piety or devotional
flippancy. Even by natural character he detested doing
things by halves ; as he said himself, he was " a whole-
hogger." At the outset of his ministry1 he perhaps expected
too much from weak human nature, but he soon acquired
the art of gentle leading and gradual guidance. Not that
he avoided all mistakes — only the negative critic does that.
But he went on his way, every day drawing souls closer to

i. — Compare Pere Ginhac : " In the beg-irming- he did not make sufficient
allowance for the frailty of human nature in his desire to advance souls to the

very highest perfection Later on he became as large-hearted and

indulgent in his direction as he was formerly inclined to be rigid. . . . Towards
the end of his life [he lived to over 70], gentleness became his chief
characteristic. " — A Man After God's Own Heart, p. 63. " Fr. Ginhac at this
period of his life was not quite enough on his guard against the impulses

inspired in generous souls by their first fervour Later on, taught by

experience, he restrained these immoderate desires for corporal mortification."
— Ibid., p. i Oi.

174 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

Christ, advocating without compromise what he knew to be
Christ's ideal, modifying what he believed to be merely its
outer or temporary expression, accepting as inevitable the
criticism of those who prefer things as they are and deprecate
the better on the plea of letting well alone.

That he was wonderfully successful as a director was shown
by the void which his death created, to which many dozens
of letters bear touching testimony. To this success many
qualities contributed. In the first place he was unaffectedly
and unobtrusively polite ; a quality which, just because it
is not necessarily associated with holiness, must not be
undervalued. " Fr. Doyle," a nun declared with emphasis,
" always treats one as a lady." Grace of manner,
allied with thoughtfulness, always creates a favourable
prepossession. Furthermore, Fr. Doyle was obviously pains
taking and unselfish, he never shrank from trouble when the
issue was the good of even a single soul, he never grumbled
or complained of inroads made on his time and temper.1
In addition to all this, he had ' a way with him,' a natural
attractiveness and spontaneity, an infectious gaiety. He
had nothing of prudery or stiffness about him, no depressingly
impersonal smile or manner, no angularities or excrescences.2
His emotions did not seem to move on merely celestial hinges,
nor did his movements appear to be regulated by spiritual
clockwork. Those whom he helped felt that he had a real
personal interest in them, he did not regard them as so much
undifferentiated soul-stuff. Moreover, in his retreat-talks or
private conversations he did not use stilted language or

i. — There are in his diary two entries bearing on this. " I felt greatly
annoyed to-day because I was kept hearing confessions for nearly five hours
without lunch, and also on arriving at X because asked to hear more confessions.
.... I see now that it was Jesus did it all and that in future I must let nothing
ruffle me since these things come straight from His hand." (26th July, 1914.)
" I was very much annoyed at Y about extra work and confessions during the
retreat. Our Lord reproached me for this, making me see more clearly that all
this came from His hand and not from ' the thoughtlessness of others' as I told
myself. I told several people about what I suffered and my pains, etc., which
Jesus wanted me to keep to myself." (ist September, 1915.) Even holy people
can at times be thoughtless and provoking ; on such occasions Fr. Doyle was
clearly not helped by any natural obtusity or placidity.

2. — Pere Ginhac was thus criticised by one of his novices : " Every one of his
movements is studied. If he speaks affectionately, if he smiles or is amiable,
one can see that it is all regulated by the will and that he acts thus because
God wishes it so. One would prefer something a little more spontaneous,
something a little more from the heart." — A Man After God's O-wn Heart, p. 96.

DIRECTOR OF OTHERS 175

conventional phraseology, he spoke with homely directness.
Thus he would say : " There are three D's which you ought
to avoid — the Doctor, the Devil, and the Dumps. You
can cheat the doctor and run from the devil, but the dumps
are the divil ! " He did not think that holiness lost by
being conjoined with a sense of humour. Nor did he neglect
any available helps to imagination, memory or sentiment.
In giving a retreat to children and even adults he sometimes
gave one of the daily instructions with the aid of lantern-
slides, a method of vivid presentation which always made
a deep impression.1 He also had recourse to what may be
termed little dodges or stratagems. For example, one of
his favourite aspirations was ' Omnipotent God make me a
saint.' This he had printed on small pink leaflets which,
parodying a well-known advertisement, he called (Father
William's) " pink pills for pale saints " or, as he once put
it, " intended to make pale souls ruddy with the love of
God." He once sent a box of these to a convent with the
following " directions for use " : " To be taken frequently
during the day, and occasionally at night, as directed by the
physician ; when the disease is deeply rooted and of long
standing, increase the dose to every quarter of an hour ;
result infallible, will either cure or kill ! " This may seem
a rather elaborate joke, especially when put in cold print.
But there are many to whom the presentation of a ' pink
pill ' was the first not easily forgotten introduction to the
use of aspirations. Besides, this kindly humour was simply
natural to the man and brought an element of humanness
into relations too often regarded as formal or dismal.

Beyond and behind all these qualities and activities there
was something which can only be called personal influence.
It was not any gifts of mind and heart, nor was it just facility
of expression, nor yet quick intuitive sympathy ; it was all
this and more. There was about Fr. Doyle as director that
intangible indefinable thing which we term personality. It
was not so much the words that moved people as the man
behind the words, not so much what he said as what he

i. — He had projected a meditation book, the chief innovation in which was to
be that each meditation was accompanied by a picture representing- the scene
or " composition of place."

176 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

was. Not that he ever spoke of himself or his own spiritual
life.1 One might perhaps guess at details of prayer and
mortification. But that was not uppermost in one's mind
when one came into real contact with him ; one thought,
not of details, but of the whole man. One seemed to feel
the radiance of the love with which he was afire as distinctly
as if it were a physical rise of temperature. He was so
transparently earnest, the words came, as it were, charged
with something more than meaning. To those who knew
Fr. Doyle by casual acquaintanceship, all this may sound
exaggerated. But it is a faithful description of the impression
which he made on those who sought from him guidance
and help. And it enables us to realise that in such spiritual
relationship there is something more than moral or ascetic
theology, more than eloquence or elocution. Does not the
secret lie in our Lord's own criterion of fruitfulness ? "Amen,
amen, I say to you, unless the grain of wheat falling into
the ground die, itself remaineth alone ; but if it die, it bringeth
forth much fruit." (S. John 12. 24.) Or, to change the
simile but not the reality : "As the branch cannot bear
fruit of itself unless it abide in the vine, so neither can you
unless you abide in Me." (S. John 15. 4.)'-'

Fr. Doyle did not confine himself to personal interviews,
he kept up a heavy correspondence. How he managed it,
in spite of his other multitudinous activities, is something
of a mystery. It was to the end a heavy strain, absorbing
much time and energy. Often he found it a wearisome
burden and felt inclined to abandon what after reflection
he always came again to consider a real apostolate. " When
a man takes the pledge for life," he once wrote, " he generally
asks for just one more drink. I have made a resolution
this year not to grumble about letters, so I am entitled to
have one last growl. The growl is only an apology for not
answering your welcome letter sooner. But it reached me

i. — Compare this, written to a nun : "I fear you have let fall from time to
time little hints about God's graces to you, which people have taken in joke.
You must be careful to hide the King's secret from all."

2. — Here is a quotation from a letter to Fr. Doyle (1916) to which many
similar testimonies could be added : " Everyone I met seemed to hold me back
instead of helping- me forward, but you brought new hope [of being- a saint] into
my life. I have done more acts of self-conquest in the past eight months than
in all the rest of the twenty years I have been in religion."

DIRECTOR OF OTHERS 177

with twenty-four others, and ten came by the next post !
No matter, since He wills it ; but you will understand why
at times I neglect you."1 "Ask Jesus," he says to another
correspondent, " to help me with all the letters I have to
write. A big temptation came to me some time back that this
letter-writing was a huge waste of time and no good was
done. I could not help feeling that the answer came from
our Blessed Lord Himself in the following extract : ' It may
console you to know that your letter has been the means
of saving me from at least one hundred mortal sins since.
When these fierce temptations come upon me, I take it out
and read it over, and somehow it helps me to fight the devil
and say, ' No, I will not offend God again.' That has given
me fresh courage." Hence Fr. Doyle threw himself into a
task which was far from congenial to him and which candid
critics did not hesitate to describe as a wasteful delusion.
He never shirked any toil or trouble once he became con
vinced that it was helping the interests of his Master. " Don't
be afraid of writing if I can help you," he said to a diffident
religious. " But if you want to make me angry, apologise
for ' giving me trouble ' ! How could that be called trouble
which helps you to love our dearest Lord even one tiny
scrap more ? " To his zealous heart the question seemed
unanswerable.

His voluminous correspondence was concerned exclusively
with spiritual matters. For mere chat or gossip he had
neither time nor inclination. " Now for a scolding ! " he
wrote to a well-meaning news-sender. "A good deal of your
last letter consisted of ' news.' I know you meant kindly,
but I only want to hear about your soul and your progress
in perfection, or at least such things as bear directly on the
interests of God." His letters consist, therefore, practically
altogether of personal advice and spiritual direction. All
this was, it is hardly necessary to say, written for particular
individuals in known circumstances, and was not intended
to form a general treatise on the spiritual life. One cannot

i. — One letter ends thus : " God love you ! there are rows of people waiting
for confession, and I shall be eaten." (April, 1912). Compare what Mgr.
Baudrillart says of Mgr. d'Hulst : " Correspondence certainly added greatly to
the overloading of his life ; he dreaded the postman's knock." — The Way of the
Heart: Letters of Direction, Eng. trans. 1913, p. viii.
M

178 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

always generalise individual spiritual guidance, any more than
one can indiscriminately apply a doctor's prescription. But
in so far as general principles are advocated, it seems useful
to collect some typical passages from letters written by Fr.
Doyle, especially to nuns. Some such excerpts have been
already given, particularly in the account of his own inner
life. A further selection, roughly classified under convenient
heads, will enable us to appreciate more accurately the main
outlines of his spiritual direction. This arrangement has the
advantage of letting Fr. Doyle speak for himself. It is, of
course, obvious that a succession of extracts from letters
to different correspondents will necessarily include some
repetitions, and cannot in any sense be regarded as a compact
or unified treatment. At least they will form a little
anthology of counsels and thoughts, among which the reader
can pick and choose whatever seems appropriate or true.1

(3.) DISCOURAGEMENT.

Judging by the frequency with which Fr. Doyle's letters
deal with it, discouragement must be the besetting sin of
those who are striving towards holiness. Doubtless some
times it shows a secret pride and over-reliance on our own
unaided efforts ; we are quite surprised and hurt that we
did not do better ; we are irritated by the discovery of our
faults, especially if others share that discovery. Discourage
ment such as this is not dissipated by harsh sincerity nor
excised by drastic spiritual surgery ; it must be converted
into humble childlike trustfulness in Christ who knows our
weakness and our difficulties, who sees them from our side
and not as human critics do. Another form of discourage
ment lies in that natural human shrinking from struggle
and suffering, such as our Lord Himself felt in Gethsemane.

i. — As far as possible the date is affixed to each. The few extracts dated
1905 are from the Notes referred to on p. 26.

DISCOURAGEMENT 179

He, who chose three companions to be near Him and prayed
for the passing of the bitter chalice, knows well what it is
to be sorrowful, sad and fearful Surely He does not begrudge
human counsel and companionship to those who begin to
fear and to be heavy. ' The spirit indeed is willing but the
flesh is weak." (S. Mark 14. 38.) Hence it is that a
discerning and sympathetic director can do so much for one
who is faithful, but discouraged, acting as "an angel from
heaven strengthening him." (S. Luke 22. 43.) The pith
of Fr. Doyle's advice can be put in these two short sentences
of his : " When you commit a fault which humbles you
and for which you are really sorry, it is a gain instead of
a loss." " Recognize God's graces to you, and instead of
thinking of yourself and your faults, try to do all you can
for God and love Him more." Here are some further excerpts
from his letters.

(A). " There is one fault in religious which should not
be forgiven either in this world or in the world to come,
and that is discouragement ; for it means we are playing
the devil's game for him — his pet walking stick, someone
has called it. Thank God, we have not to judge ourselves,
for, as St. Ignatius wisely remarks, no one is a judge in his
own case. Let me judge you, my child, as I honestly think
God judges you. My verdict must be that you have grown
immensely in holiness during the past few years. To begin
with, every particle of merit — and there must be millions
of them since you first entered religion — is waiting for you
in heaven, for no amount of infidelity or venial sin can ever
diminish that by one iota. Then, in spite of your sufferings
and weak health, you have worked on and struggled on from
day to day — a life which must have pleased God immensely.
Don't lose heart, my dear child, the darkness you feel is
not a sign of God's displeasure, for every saint has gone
through it. You are ' minting money ' every instant you
live, you are helping to save soul after soul each hour you
suffer. So you should say with St. Paul, (2 Cor. 7. 4) :
' I exceedingly abound with joy in all our tribulation.' "
(July, 1913.)

i8o FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

(B). " You seem to have been going through a harder
time than usual lately, and this evidently has come as a
surprise to you. But is it not the best of signs that all is
well, that God has accepted your generous offer to bear all
He wishes to send you, and that the devil is furious and
alarmed at the progress you have made in perfection and
mad at the harm you have done to his evil cause ? The
storm has come upon you, and you, foolish child as you
always were, have thought all is lost because you have bent
a little like the reed before the wind. No, the want of
courage, firmness and generosity will only serve to tumble
and throw you the more confidently into the strengthening
arms of our dear Lord, since it makes you see that without
Him you can do nothing.

" God always seems to permit this to happen even to His
saints. I read recently in the life of a holy soul who had
promised to give our Lord all : ' Three times to-day
I deliberately avoided a humiliation and a little act of self-
denial." Hurrah, boys ! I say ; if the saints act like that,
there is some hope for you and me. If there has been any
falling off in your generous resolution, go back humbly to
the feet of Jesus now and take up bravely the cross which
means so much for His glory and your happiness."
(December, 1912.)

(C). " In spite of all our efforts, we fall into faults from
time to time. God permits this for two reasons : (i) to keep
the soul humble and to make it realise its utter powerlessness
when left alone without His fostering hand, and (2) because
the act of sorrow after the fault not only washes it com
pletely away, but immensely increases our merit, and being
an act of humility bringing us really heartbroken to His
feet, delights Him beyond measure." (April, 1913.)

(D). " Our Lord is displeased only when He sees no attempt
made to get rid of imperfections which, when deliberate,
clog the soul and chain it to the earth. But He often pur
posely does not give the victory over them in order to increase
our opportunities of meriting. Make an act of humility and
sorrow after failure, and then never a thought more
about it.

DISCOURAGEMENT 181

" He sees what a ' tiny little child ' you are, and how
useless even your greatest efforts are to accomplish the
gigantic work of making a saint. But this longing, this
stretching out of baby hands for His love, pleases Him beyond
measure ; and one day He will stoop down and catch you
up with infinite tenderness in His divine arms and raise
you to heights of sanctity you little dream of now."
(May, 1913.)

(E). " You need not be uneasy to see in your soul apparent
contradictions : an ardent desire to love God and to suffer
for Him, and then when the opportunity comes, a shrinking
from pain, and even a refusal to bear it. Fortunately we
are dealing with our Lord who can read the heart and who
knows our protestations of love are sincere and genuine,
with One, too, who knows the weakness of our human nature
and who does not expect much from us. He does not forget
His own human weakness on earth. ' With desire have I
desired to eat this Pasch with you before I suffer,' He said
showing His longing for His Passion. And then an hour
after He seems to take His offering back : ' Father, if it
be possible, let this chalice pass from Me.' The very longing
to love Him and bear much for His sake is dear to our Lord,
even if our courage fails when tested." (June, 1913.)

(F). " Our dear Lord is certainly testing the extent of
your love for Him before He takes you to Himself. But
should not that make you rejoice, my dear child, since the
harder and sharper the fight, the closer will be your union
with Him in heaven ? I have just one fault to blame you
for : you have always kept your eyes fixed on your faults —
I do not deny there are plenty ! — and have never helped
yourself by thinking on what you have done and suffered
for His dear sake. If you have forgotten all this, He has
not ; and when you meet Him, the gratitude of His loving
Heart will hide the imperfections and faults of former years.
Be brave and generous to the end, my dear child, and do
not take back what He asks you to give, though He knew
well what it would cost you." (August, 1912.)

(G). " I think there is no harder trial in the spiritual life
than the one you speak of. One feels so weary of it all,

182 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

fighting and struggling against things which seem so small
and mean, and where there is apparently so little merit to
be gained, and then comes the longing to throw it all up
and be content with just doing the bare necessary to save
one's soul. You must have great patience with yourself, my
dear child, and not expect to get into a region of perfect
peace where there would be no trials or worries or fighting
against self — even the saints did not enjoy that calm.
Remember, God sees the intention, which in your case is
generous and unreserved. He is quite pleased with that,
and only smiles when He sees us failing in our resolve and
determination to be perfect. To console you, here is the
confession of the great S. Teresa (Life 30. 15) : ' The devil sends
me so offensive a spirit of bad temper that at times I think I
could eat people up.' She was canonised, so there is some
hope of salvation for us yet." (March, 1912.)

(H). " Are you not foolish in wishing to be free from
these attacks of impatience, etc. ? I know how violent
they can be, since they sweep down on me at all hours without
any provocation. You forget the many victories they furnish
you with, the hours perhaps of hard fighting, and only fix
your eyes on the little tiny word of anger, or the small fault,
which is gone with one ' Jesus forgive me.' ' (April, 1912.)

(I). "I fear you are allowing the devil to score off you
by getting so much upset over these bothersome, but harm
less, temptations. You must let our Lord sanctify you in
His own way. Were we to pick our own trials and modes
of sanctification, we should soon make a mess of things.
The net result of your temptations is a deeper humility, a
sense of your own weakness and wretchedness, and is not
this all gain ? ' My brethren, count it all joy, when you
shall fall into divers temptations,' says St. James (i. 2).
All I ask you to do is to try to crush down the first movements
of temptation, which perhaps can best be done by praying
that others may be more favoured or esteemed than you
There is a danger you may not suspect in thinking and
grieving too much over temptation and faults. First of all
there is oftentimes a secret pride hidden in our grief and
anger with ourselves for not being as perfect as we thought

DISCOURAGEMENT 183

or as others thought. Then this worrying over what
cannot well be avoided distracts the soul from God. After
all what God wants from you, my child, is love, and nothing
should distract you from the grand work of love-giving.
Hence when you fail, treat our Blessed Lord like a loving
little child, tell Him you are sorry, kiss His feet as a token
of your regret, and then forget all about your naughtiness."

(J). "I hope by the time you receive this you will have
realised how foolish it is of you to bother about anything —
no matter what it may be — in your past confessions.
Generously make the sacrifice of never thinking or speaking
of them again. You may do so with an easy conscience
when you act under obedience. God wants to have your
soul in a state of perfect peace and calm, for only then will
He be able to fill it with His love and dwell there
undisturbed." (May, 1912.)

(K). "Desolation is not a punishment for past infidelity,
but a special grace reserved for the few. The only danger
comes from the temptation of the devil, that God has
abandoned you and that it would be better to chuck it all
up. He will beat you in the fight at times, making you
weary of this never-ending war against self and forcing you
to yield to nature. But no harm is done provided you
start again."

(L). " St. Vincent de Paul used to say : ' One of the most
certain marks that God has great designs upon a soul is
when He sends desolation upon desolation, suffering upon
suffering.' Do you doubt for a moment that God has not
great designs upon your soul ? The clear and consoling
proof is in the terrible trial you are going through. Do not
let the assaults of the enemy disturb you. He is showing
his hand by this last storm and his fierce fury that you did
not yield in the direction that he wanted. Treat his
suggestions with silent contempt, simply lifting your heart
to God now and again, but above all not trying to drive
these thoughts away, nor being fearful of giving any consent
even though you may seem to do so under the violence of
the attack. Keep your will firm, and do not trouble about
feelings and desires.

184 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

" I do not think your ' false humility ' is pleasing to God,
though I do not suggest for a moment that you are putting
it on. Drop self and all thought of reparation out of your
life, and work now only for Him and the salvation of souls.
If an aspiration, on the authority of the B. Cure d' Ars,
often saved a soul, what must you not do each day you
suffer so bravely ! This thought certainly will help you and
make the pain almost nothing, and will add to its merit,
since the motive for bearing it will be all the higher." (1913.)

(M). " I noticed a tone of despondency in your letter, a
yielding to that commonest of all the evil suggestions of
the tempter, Cui bono ? What is the use of all this struggling
without any result, and so much prayer followed by no
apparent improvement ? It is a clever temptation, and a
successful one with most souls, resulting in the giving up
of the very things which are slowly but surely making them
saints. If only one could grasp this fact : Every tiny thing
(aspiration, self-denial, etc.,) makes us holier than we were.
Just think of the thousand of tiny things done each day
for God, e.g. each step we take ; all is done for Him, every one
of them has added to our merit, making us more pleasing
in His sight, and each moment holier. No one can see this
gradual spiritual growth, though sometimes when we have
gained a big victory, such as the secret one you won recently
over yourself, we wonder where the strength came from to
do it. I have watched your steady progress in perfection
with the greatest joy and gratitude for your generosity,
and so I want to warn you not to listen to such a suggestion
that your efforts have been in vain. Your biggest fault at
present, my child, is that you have not yet completely bent
your will to God's designs. I think it would please Him
immensely to have no wishes of our own, apart from holy
ones, so that He could bend and twist and fashion us just
as He pleases, knowing well that we will not even murmur.
Remember this does not mean that our feelings will die
also." (January, 1916.)

(N). " Surely, my child, you are not surprised to find
that you have broken your resolution, or rather, that the
devil has gained a victory over you. I am convinced from

DISCOURAGEMENT 185

a pretty big experience that perfection, that is sanctity, is
only to be won by repeated failures. If you rise again after
a fall, sorry for the pain given our Lord, humbled by it,
since you see better your real weakness, and determined to
make another start, far more is gained than if you had gone
on without a stumble. Besides, to expect to keep any
resolution, till repeated acts have made it solid in the soul,
is like one expecting to learn skating, for example, without
ever falling. The more falls, the better (that is if you do
not mind bumps), for every fall means that we have begun
again, have made another effort and so have made progress.
I mention this because I know that you — like myself1 — are
given to discouragement and tempted to give up all when
failure comes." (July, 1915.)

(O). " You seem to be suffering, my dear child, from a
very common religious malady — discouragement and want
of patience with yourself, looking for and expecting to see
great results from your efforts to become holier. You forget
what a clog the body is on the soul, and how in spite of the
most generous intentions and determination, it prevents us,
time after time, from carrying out our plans. You remember
St. Paul's bitter complaint that the good he wished to do
he did not : ' I am delighted with the law of God, but I
see another law in my members, fighting against the law
of my mind and captivating me in the law of sin.' This is
the experience of all who are striving to serve God well.
They cannot always do what they would like and what
they know He asks of them, but in the end the grace of
God — S. Paul's remedy — will bring the victory, if only we
persevere. Another consolation is that our Lord is often
as much pleased (more, S. Teresa says) by our good intentions
and desires than by their execution. The good desire, the

i. — Compare this entry in his diary (ayth June, 1915) made just a month
previously : " I am writing in great desolation and sadness, tempted even to
abandon my vocation and plunge headlong into sin. All this is the result of
having given in to myself, broken my resolutions and indulged myself in every
way. Oh, my God, what am I to do? I made a fresh start with great generosity
and determination, and in three days was worse than ever. I see my deadly
enemy is my weak character and inconstant will, which I have made worse by
years of yielding to it. My Jesus, I am humbled and crushed. Is there any
use trying more ? Every effort means a new failure and disappointment to You ;
and still I feel You urging me on to nobler things, to begin again." The very
exaggeration of the language is a measure of the despondency.

i86 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

longing and wish to be perfect, is strong in you, and as long
as that remains you need never fear displeasing God.
Besides you have a tremendous lever of sanctification in the
power of love that enables us to do things, especially what
costs us an effort, for our Lord's dear sake. Mind, this
does not mean feeling, sensible affection, but simply a dry
act of the will, intending to make the sacrifice or action an
act of pure love. ' My God, I do this for the love of You,
and for no one else in the world would I do it.' Try this
in easy things, and occasionally make a dive at a really big
sacrifice which costs, for love means sacrifice, and sacrifice
leads infallibly to love." (October, 1913.)

(P). " Will it be any help to you to learn that I know
many who suffer as you do ? Hence I can perfectly under
stand what you are going through ; the disgust for everything
spiritual, the almost hatred of God, and the mad longing
almost to leave it all behind and run away. However we
know that such a step would not end the trouble or bring
relief in any form, on the contrary, that would simply mean
playing into the devil's hands and could only lead to one
thing in the end. We know also that these trials come from
God and that if one is only patient, they will pass. Hence,
my dear child, you must set your teeth and hold on ; spiritual
life, remember, is a warfare and you will surely not run away
when the real attack comes, but rather boldly face the
enemy." (August, 1915.)

(Q). " Surely you are not right in trying to keep our
Lord away from you, or in thinking that He looks upon you
with dispeasure. When sin in the past is repented for, the
poor soul who once strayed from Him has a strange attraction
for His gentle Heart. You pain Him intensely if you think
He does not love you now, nor wish for your affection. Give
Him all you can, warmly and naturally, like a little child,
and rest assured that the one longing of His Heart is to see
you advance rapidly in holiness and perfection. You must
try and cultivate great confidence and trust in our dear
Lord's love and mercy, driving far from you sadness and
regret of all kinds. Give it no quarter, it is all from the
devil and so most harmful." (August, 1913.)

UNION AND ABANDONMENT 187

(4.) UNION AND ABANDONMENT.

With equal soundness of spirituality and accuracy of
insight, Fr. Doyle counselled the elimination of anxieties,
distractions and worries, not so much by direct counter
attack and detailed defence as by the energizing power of
a great ideal. Just as a magnet attracts and orientates a
confused mass of iron filings, marshalling and linking them
harmoniously, so an all-embracing ideal will influence and
direct all our powers and activities. See God everywhere,
he said in effect ; He is behind every event, even what men
miscall accidents ; desolation is but the shade of His hand
outstretched caressingly ; gladness is the sunshine of His
presence. Above all, He is within our souls, often
sacramentally, always by His immanent indwelling ; He
thinks with us, He shares our very consciousness as no other
being can. With the growing realization of this union with
God within us and abandonment to God's acting on us from
without, life will become easier and happier ; all our piece
meal striving and individual troubles will gradually coalesce
into one lifelong continuous act of conformity to God's
will. " Abandon yourself completely into the hands of God
and take directly from Him every event of life, agreeable
or disagreeable ; only then can God make you really holy."
" Holiness," he wrote elsewhere, " is really nothing more
than perfect conformity to God's will." " This worrying
over what cannot well be avoided," he said in a letter already
cited, " distracts the soul from God ; after all, what God
wants from you is love, and nothing should distract you
from the grand work of love-giving." Distractions are to
be conquered by one overmastering attraction ; a strong
man will be conquered and dispossessed only if a stronger
than he come upon him. Thus, as Fr. Doyle advocated it,
this ideal of conformity consisted in no mere negative
quiescence or patient resignation1 ; it was a positive active

I. — "This is not to be a kind of resigned, or perhaps rebellious, conformity,
but a generous cheerful (though not felt) embracing of what He wills."-
(October, 1916.)

i88 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

amalgamation of the human will with God's, culminating
logically in that perfect act of immolation which was the
keynote of his own holiness. All this, be it noted, was no
mere scheme of destructive will-crushing or punitive
repression, it was designed as a constructive expansion of
the will, a joyous chivalrous uplifting of the soul.1 The
heart was not to be left swept and garnished, ready for seven
other spirits more wicked than the unclean spirit already
driven out. True abandonment was to be consummated
only by union.2 " He that loveth Me shall be loved of My
Father ; and I will love him and will manifest Myself to
him. . . . And We will come to him and will make
Our abode with him." (5. John 14. 21.)

(A). " I want you to make a greater effort to see the hand
of God in everything that happens, and then to force or train
yourself to rejoice in His holy will. For example, you want
a fine day for some reason and it turns out wet. Don't
say, ' Oh, hang it ! ', but give our Lord a loving smile and
say : ' Thank You, my God, for this disappointment.' This
will help you to keep down impatience, irritability, etc.,
when people annoy you. Then when some hard trial is
past, look back on it, see how you ought to have taken it,
and resolve to act that way in future." (March, 1915.)

(B). " Try to draw closer each day the bonds of union
with Him, thinking often of His dwelling within your soul,
and so making your heart beat in union with His ; that is,
seeking and wishing for only His adorable will in all things,
even the smallest. This will conquer all worries, for nothing
which comes from the loving hand of God can ever be a
worry to us." (March, 1913.)

(C). Your difficulty is merely God's plan for your
sanctification. ' My child, let Me do with you what I will.'

i. — Fr. Doyle advocated as an important part of this conformity that docility
to the inspirations of the Holy Spirit, which was so conspicuous in his own life. —
See p. 95.

2. — "The state of divine union consists in the total transformation of the will
into the will of God, so that every movement of the will shall be always the
movement of the will of God only." — S. John of the Cross, Ascent of Mount
Carmel \. 11,3. So Teresa, Foundations v. 10.

UNION AND ABANDONMENT 189

This is hard to submit to, especially when our Lord hides
Himself in the background and uses other instruments to
do His work on us. Never mind, my dear child, you are
making undoubted progress. Jesus may hide it from your
eyes, but He does not hide it from mine. I do not trouble
in the least about your little faults and failings which will
vanish as you become more perfect and grow more in the
love of what is hard to nature. For your consolation
remember that everyone I have ever met found the struggle
for perfection hard because most of the work is done in the
dark. It is a question of faith and courage, going along
bravely day after day, gathering up a sacrifice here and there,
and although many are let slip, every one we lay at the feet
of our Lord means so much solid progress."

(D). " May our dear Lord help you to bear the cross His
love has sent you. Try to keep this one thought before
you all through your trial : This is God's doing. Hence
do not indulge in useless regrets about want of care, etc.
Even if there was negligence, God permitted it to give you
this golden chance of being brave and generous under the
cross. What has happened will bring you much grace and
even happiness, if you take it in the right way. ' Let Him
act/ must be your motto. Jesus will bring all things right
in the end. The more I get to know God, the more inclined
I feel to let Him work out things in His own way and time,
and to go on peacefully not troubling about anything. This
cross is a sign of God's love for you, and the surest way of
increasing your love for Him. Though you indeed try to
take courageously the crosses God sends you, still there
seems to be a want of that complete submission to God's
wishes that He looks for and longs for in every detail of
your life. Endeavour still more to give Him the desire of
His Heart."

(E). "I have been praying earnestly to know what our
Lord wants from you during this year, and if I mistake not,
this is His message to you. He wants a very close union
with Him which you will try to effect in this way. Each
morning at Holy Communion invite Jesus, with all the love
and fervour you can, to enter into your heart and dwell

190 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

there during the day as in a tabernacle, making of your
heart a living tabernacle which will be very dear to
Him. . . . This union will be impossible without com
plete abandonment to God's pleasure in all the little worries
of your life. Do whatever you think is most for His glory
. . . and then calmly watch Him upset all and apparently
bless your efforts with failure, and even sins on the part
of others. I have long had the feeling that your over-anxiety
to keep things right or prevent uncharitableness which has
caused you a good deal of worry, is not pleasing to God
and prevents Him from drawing you closer in His love.
Non in commotione Dominus} Labour, then, with might
and main to keep your soul in peace, put an unbounded
trust in His loving goodness. If you live in Jesus and Jesus
in you, striving to make each little action, each morsel of
food, every word of the Office, etc., an act of love to be laid
at His feet as dwelling in your heart, you will certainly please
Him immensely and fly to perfection." (January, 1912.)

(F). " This morning during Mass I felt strongly that
Jesus was pained that you do not trust Him absolutely,
that is trust Him in every detail of your life. You are
wanting in that childlike confidence He desires so much
from you, the taking lovingly and trustfully from His hands
all that He sends you, not even wishing things to have
happened otherwise. He wants you to possess your soul in
peace in the midst of the many troubles, cares and difficulties
of your work, looking upon everything as arranged by Him,
and hence something to welcome joyfully. Jesus will not
dwell in your soul as He wishes unless you are at peace.
This is the first step towards that union which you desire
so much — but not so much as He does. Don't keep Him
waiting, my child, but by earnest and constant efforts empty
your heart of every care that He may abide with you for
ever." (May, 1913.)

(G). " We do not mind what God does with us so long as
it more or less fits in with our own wishes, but when His
will clashes with ours, we begin to see the difficulty of the
prayer, ' Not my will, but Thine be done.' All the same

i. — "The Lord is not in the earthquake." — III. Kings 19, 11.

UNION AND ABANDONMENT 191

I think we can never expect really to please God till we
become like wax in His hands, so that He will never have
to hesitate before sending a cross or trial no matter how
hard." (April, 1913.)

(H). "As regards this union with our Lord, it is really
nothing more than a blending of our will with His, in such
a way that we wish only what He wishes, and as far as
possible only think of and interest ourselves in those things
that are His.

" I would urge you to avoid worry and anxiety which
always show that self is still strong and that the human
will is not completely dead.

" In the matter of suffering I think you are inclined to
confound the act of the will with feeling. You do not really
' draw back ' when suffering comes, since you have the will
to bear all things for the love of Jesus ; but nature shrinks
from pain and at times makes our ' will to suffer ' give way.

" To-day at Exposition I asked our Lord to let me know
what He wished you to correct especially during your retreat.
It seems to me, my child, that most of your faults come
from a want of perfect abandonment to the will of God.
For example, when you get annoyed with people and speak
sharply, you lose sight of God's directing hand, which
prompted or allowed people to act in this way. God's will
is constantly clashing with ours, and unless a soul is perfectly
submissive, interior peace is disturbed or lost. True
abandonment means crushing out self and welcoming with
sweetness and joy all God sends."

(I). " Try to grasp the fact — -a very hard thing to do —
that in the spiritual life ' feelings ' count for nothing, that
they are no indication of our real state ; generally speaking
they are just the opposite. , . . You are perfectly right
when you say that the first thing to do is ' to give up your
own will.' Why not aim at making God's will alone yours
in every detail of life, so that you would never desire or wish
for anything except what He willed, and look on every
detail as coming from His hand, as it does ? Such a one is
never ' put out ' by anything — bad weather, unpleasant
work, annoying incidents, they are all His doing and His

I92 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

sweet will. Try it, though it means high perfection."
(October, 1916.)

(J). " Do nothing without consulting Him in the Taber
nacle. But then act fearlessly, if you see it is for His honour
and glory, never minding what others may think or say.
Above all, " cast your care upon the Lord and He shall
sustain you." (Psalm 54. 23.) Peace and calm in your
soul, prayer ever on your lips, and a big love in your heart
for Him and His interests, will carry you very far."

(K). " You know well that even the smallest cross and
happening of your life is part of our Blessed Lord's plan
for your sanctification. It is not easy, I know, to look at
things in this light. But one can train the will to look upon
the acts of others, even their sinful acts in as much as they
concern ourselves, as coming from the hand of God. There
is so much real holiness and so very much solid happiness
and peace and contentment in this little principle, that I
am very anxious you should try and acquire it, so that
nothing may really ruffle the peace of your soul. Don't
think this is easy, it is not ; and you will fail time after
time in your efforts, but with perseverance, steady progress
will be. made." (November, 1914.)

(L). "A quiet hidden life is not possible for you in one
way, and yet perfectly so in another — by building a solitude
in your heart where you can ever live alone with Jesus, letting
the noise and worry of life, cares and anxieties of the world,
pass over your head like a storm, which will never ruffle
the peace of your soul. You will enjoy perfect calm and
peace of soul, the requisite condition for a life of union, by
keeping Jesus ever with you as a Friend, and remembering
that everything happens by His permission and is in fact
His work. Let this principle soak in and it will make you
a saint. Apply it to every detail of your life, and you will
not be far from what you seek ; in fact humiliations, slights,
annoyances, worries will all disappear, since it is not X, but
Jesus, who is trying you in this way." (June, 1916.)

(M). " Make this Act of Immolation to-morrow, Good
Friday, at three o'clock. If you mean it and try henceforth

UNION AND ABANDONMENT 193

to live up to its spirit, it will be 'a holocaust in the odour
of sweetness/ a perpetual sacrifice of your own will, ever
ascending before the throne of God, and will draw down
upon you, I am convinced, many great and wonderful
graces.

" The practice of this act is simply that you give yourself
into the hands of Jesus in the most absolute manner possible,
abandoning especially your own will, that He may do with
you, at every moment and in every way, as He pleases ;
you give yourself to Him as His willing victim to be immolated
to His good pleasure, and should He so please, to be sacrificed
and to suffer without complaint or murmur whatsoever He
may wish.

" Trials, disappointments, failure, humiliations, suffering
of body and soul may crowd upon you, at least from time
to time, but if you welcome them all as coming direct from
His hand in answer to your generous offering, and as part
of the immolation of His willing victim, you will find a
sweetness and a delight in these things you never tasted
before.

' This is the life I promised to point out to you which,
I said, would make you a greater saint than if you were
buried in a cloister. For your present life is daily full of
opportunities of proving that you wish and are willing to
suffer, to be immolated and sacrificed for the love of Jesus,
' the Victim of Love ' who is ever offered still on our altars.
Make the act in a spirit of deep humility but with immense
trust and confidence in the grace of God which will not
fail you. May our crucified Jesus take you now, my dear
child, and nail you to the cross with Himself " (Holy
Thursday, 1913.)

The following is the Act which is here referred to.1
Act of Immolation.

O most sweet Jesus, with all my heart, united to the
dispositions of Your holy Mother upon Calvary, through her
and with her, I offer myself to You and to the adorable
Trinity, upon all the altars of the world, as a most pure

i. — Some of the sentences in this Act of Immolation are taken from Sceur
Gertrude-Marie — Une mystique de nos jours, p. 145 (abridged Engf. trans., p. 25).

194 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

oblation, uniting in myself every sacrifice and act of
homage.

I offer Your Sacred Wounds and all the Blood You have
shed, particularly the sweet Wound of Your Sacred Heart
with the blood and water which flowed from It, and the
precious tears of Your Mother.

I offer this most holy sacrifice in union with all the souls
who love You in Heaven and on earth for all the intentions
of Your Divine Heart, and especially as a victim of expiation
and impetration on behalf of Your priests and of the souls
whom You have consecrated to Yourself.

I offer myself to You to be Your Victim in the fullest
sense of the word. I deliver to You my body, my soul,
my heart, all that I have, that You may dispose of and
immolate them according to Your good pleasure. Do with
me as You please, without consulting my desires, my repug
nances, my wishes.

I offer myself to Your Justice, to Your Sanctity, to Your
Love. To Your Justice, to make reparation for my sins
and those of all poor sinners. To Your Holiness, for my
own sanctification and that of all souls consecrated to You,
especially Your priests. To Your Love, in order that You
may make of my heart a perpetual holocaust of pure love.

O Jesus ! receive me now from the hands of Your most
holy Mother, offer me with Yourself and immolate me along
with You. I offer myself to You by her hands in order
that You may unite me to Your ceaseless Immolation, and
that through me and by me You may satisfy the burning
desire which You have to suffer for the glory of Your Father,
the salvation of souls and especially the perfection and
sanctification of Your priests and Your chosen souls.

Receive and accept me, I beg of You, in spite of my great
unworthiness and wretchedness. From henceforth I shall
look upon all the crosses, all the sufferings, all the trials,
which Your Providence has destined for me and will send
me, as so many signs which will prove to me that You have
accepted my humble offering Amenj

(N). "As regards the Act of Immolation I give you full
permission to make it. But do not complain to our dear
Lord if He takes you at your word and makes you His victim.

UNION AND ABANDONMENT 195

You need not fear whatever He may send you to bear, since
His grace will come with it ; but you should always try to
keep in mind your offering, living up to the spirit of it. Hence
endeavour to see the hand of God in everything that happens
to you now ; e.g. if you rise in the morning with a headache,
thank Him for sending it, since a victim is one who must
be immolated and crucified. Again, look upon all
humiliations and crosses, failure and disappointment in
your work, in a word, everything that is hard, as His seal
upon your offering, and rouse yourself to bear all cheerfully
and lovingly, remembering that you are to be His ' suffering
love.' " (September, 1914.)

(5.) THE CROSS.

Thus Fr. Doyle's ideal of conformity to God's will meant
a gradual development of passive patient resignation into a
joyful spontaneous acceptance of everything from God's
hands and a watchful promptness, not only to obey the
inspirations of grace, but also to embrace what he loved
to call " the hard things." "As a rule you will find." he
said, " that when you do the hard thing just because it is
hard, great consolation and love always follow " While he
utilised every psychological expedient to help spiritual
progress, he never attempted to substitute an easy short
cut for the royal road of the cross ; there is no detour round
the hill of Calvary. When a religious asked him for a spiritual
motto, he wrote, " Lord, make me a saint and do not spare
me in the making." And when the latter half was objected
to, he rejoined, " If you desire the accomplishment of the
first part, you must be ready to accept generously and
wholeheartedly the latter part — no compromise ! " In this
stern teaching, however, he was careful to emphasise three
points and to guard against errors, (i) It is not a question
of feelings, but of will. Naturally we hate suffering and
dread pain ; were it otherwise, we should be either coarsely
or morbidly insensitive. The ideal is not to suppress or

196 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

eliminate emotion and feeling, that would be an inhuman
aim ; nor is it even to attain an unnatural state of indifference
and quiescence. The Christian ideal is rather to strengthen
and elevate the will, the higher self ; the struggle is one
of soul, not of body. (2) Nor is it necessary to conjure up
possibilities of suffering and humiliation ; we need only live
from day to day amid the circumstances which God's
providence has woven round us. The imagination should
not be allowed to terrify the soul by picturing future trials
which may never come. There is no need for discouragement
because one feels unable to pray for suffering. " To ask
for suffering," says Fr. Doyle, " is often secret pride or
presumption ; but you may offer yourself to our Lord to
bear whatever He may wish to send you." (3) This attitude
towards suffering will never be attained merely by con
centrating on details, by immersing oneself in the actual
trials to be borne. Our gaze should be fixed not on the Cross
but on the Crucifix, not on self-crucifixion but on " Jesus
Christ and Him crucified " (/ Cor. 2. 2.) The mistake is
often made by holy souls of allowing their attention to be
engrossed in the petty details of their actual sufferings or
premeditated penances, occupying themselves, as it were, in
pin-pricking. It is bad psychology and bad spirituality. The
apostles went forth " rejoicing that they were accounted
worthy to suffer reproach for the name of Jesus " (Acts
5. 41) ; their joy was not in counting the stripes but in the
thought of Jesus. And so it has ever been ; the men and
women who have dared and done hard things have always
been led by some great ideal or overmastering passion. We
shall face the Cross only if we are filled with the love of
the Crucified.

(A). " I have long had the feeling that, since the world
is growing so rapidly worse and worse and God has lost His
hold, as it were, upon the hearts of men, He is looking all
the more earnestly and anxiously for big things from those
who are faithful to Him still. He cannot, perhaps, gather
a large army round His standard, but He wants every one
in it to be a Hero, absolutely and lovingly devoted to Him ;
if only we could get inside that magic circle of generous
souls, I believe there is no grace He would not give us to help

THE CROSS 197

on the work He has so much at heart, our personal sancti-
fication Every day you live means an infallible growth in
holiness which may be multiplied a thousand times by a
little generosity. When you get the chance hammer into
the ' Little Flowers ' around you that holiness means three
things : — Love, Prayer, Sacrifice "

(B). "A want of will is the chief obstacle to our becoming
saints. We are not holy because we do not really wish to
become so. We would indeed gladly possess the virtues
of the saints — their humility and patience, their love o!
suffering, their penance and zeal. But we are unwilling to
embrace all that goes to make a saint and to enter on the
narrow path which leads to sanctity. A strong will, a resolute
will, is needed ; a will which is not to be broken by difficulties
or turned aside by trifling obstacles ; a determination to
be a saint and not to faint and falter because the way seems
long and hard and narrow. A big heart, a courageous heart,
is needed for sanctification, to fight our worst enemy — our
own self-love " (aoth November, 1905.)

(C). ' ' One thing is wanting to thee.' (S. Luke 18. 22.)
How many souls there are upon whom Jesus looks with love,
souls who are very dear to His Sacred Heart, for they have
done much and sacrificed much for Him. Yet He asks
for more, He wants that last sacrifice, the surrender of that
secret clinging to some trifling attachment, that their lives
may be a perfect holocaust How many souls hear this
little voice, ' One thing is wanting to you that you may be
perfect,' one generous effort to break away from the almost
severed ties of self-love, and yet they heed it not. Liberty,
home and family they have given up, the joys and pleasures
of this world they have despised, for a life of easy comfort
they have embraced the poverty of Christ ; but still they
cling to some trifling gratification, and heed not the pleadings
of the Sacred Heart." (3rd November, 1905.)

(D). " Over and over again I asked myself, when reading
that book,1 was it not strange that I should come across

I. — Probably the Life of Mere Marie de J^sus (Marie Deluil-Martiny).
See p. 156.

198 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

the very ideas which had been in my mind so long : namely,
the longing of our Lord for more souls who would be absolutely
at His mercy, His pleasure and disposal ; souls in whom He
could work at will, knowing that they would never resist
Him, even by praying to Him to lessen the trials He was
sending ; souls who were willing and longing to be sacrificed
and immolated in spite of all the shrinking of weak human
nature.

" Now I have long thought He wants that from you. And
everything that is happening seems to point that way. If
you make such a surrender of yourself absolutely into His
hands, I know not what humiliations, trials and even
sufferings may come upon you, though you must not ask
for them. But He will send you grace in abundance to
bear them, He will draw immense glory out of your loving
crucifixion, and in spite of yourself He will make you a
saint. . . This must be chiefly an act of the will, for
it would be unnatural not to feel trials or humiliations ; but
even when the tears of pain are falling, the higher nature
can rejoice. You can see this is high perfection, but it will
bring great peace to your soul. Our Lord will take the work
of your sanctification into His own hands, if you keep the
words of the Imitation (iii. 17. i) ever before you : ' Child,
suffer Me to do with thee whatever I will.' Do not be afraid
for He would not ask this if He did not intend to find you
the grace." (February, 1912.)

(E) " You must bear in mind that, if God has marked
you out for very great graces and possibly a holiness of which
you do not even dream, you must be ready to suffer ; and the
more of this comes to you, especially sufferings of soul, the
happier it ought to make you. St. Francis de Sales says
that ' One of the most certain marks that God has great
designs upon a person is when He sends desolation upon
desolation, suffering upon suifering.' Love of God is
holiness, but the price of love is pain. Round the treasure-
house of His love, God has set a thorny hedge ; those who
would force their way through must not shrink when they
feel the sharpness of the thorns piercing their very soul.
But alas ! how many after a step or two turn sadly back
in fear, and so never reach the side of Jesus.

THE CROSS 199

" You will see, therefore, that your present state is quite
a natural one to expect, and instead of depressing you, should
rather console and rejoice your heart. Do not be surprised
if you find the life of sacrifice, constant sacrifice, a hard
one. Crucifixion is ever so to human nature, even the big
saints found that, and shrank from it with all their might.
Poor weak human nature is ever crying, ' Come down from
the Cross/ and the devils, of course, will pull us down if
they can ; the easier life of others, too, is a temptation to
us and is naturally more attractive ; all of which often
plunges one into a feeling of sadness and that feeling of
' being crushed,' about which you speak."

(F). " You seem to be a little upset at not being able to
feel more that you really love our Lord. The mere longing
desire to do so is a certain proof that love, and much of it,
exists in your heart. But you can test your love infallibly
and find out how much you have by asking yourself this
question : What am I willing to suffer for Him ? It is the
test of St Francis de Sales : ' Willingness to suffer is a certain
proof of love.' This question I will answer for you. Though
naturally you dread and shrink from pain and humiliation,
I am certain there is no humiliation or suffering which you
would refuse to accept if God asked you to bear it. That
being so, you can say to our Lord with all the confidence
of Peter who seemed to doubt his own heart : Lord, Thou
knowest that I love Thee with all my heart and soul and
strength, for I would gladly lay down my life for Thee."
(March, 1913.)

(G). " You seem to be troubled that you cannot love God
when trials come and all is darkness. But that is just the
moment when you love Him most and prove your love the
best. If only, when you are in desolation and dryness, you
force yourself to utter an act of love or an oblation of yourself
without a particle of feeling, you make an offering which is
of surpassing value in His eyes and most pleasing to His
Sacred Heart. A dry act of love is a real act of love, since
it is all for Jesus and nothing for self. Therefore
welcome the hard black days as real harvest time '•
(December, 1912.)

coo FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ,

(H). " Don't lose sight of this principle, that true holiness
is based on humility which can never be attained except
by humiliations and plenty of them Pray daily that ' the
hard knocks of humiliation ' may increase, for holiness will
grow in proportion. Do not forget, with reference to what
you have to suffer from others, that it is all part of God's
plan for your sanctification. If you want to be a saint,
you must suffer and in the way that pleases God, not
yourself. Till you come to recognize that you are a
' football ' and really deserve to be kicked by everyone,
the grace of God will not produce its effect in your soul.
' He hath regarded the humility of His handmaid.' " (5. Luke
i. 48.) (March, 1916.)

(I). "I can quite understand your difficult position and
the suffering caused — I can quite believe unintentionally —
by the Sister you speak of. ... Once get hold of the
principle that all that happens comes straight from the hand
of God, and you have found the secret of deep peace which
nothing can disturb. You must look upon this Sister as
the ' chisel ' in the Almighty Worker's hand. He knows
the best tool to use, and all we have to do is to let Him use
it as He pleases. Don't expect that poor weak human
nature will submit to the blows without a murmur. But
with an effort of the will we can crush this down, until in
the end what once caused us pain and tears becomes the
source of great interior joy, since we have realised how these
things help on our spiritual progress. Hence I would advise
you without any hesitation, not to try to get a change unless
it be to a house where you will have two disagreeable Sisters
instead of one ! This may sound a bit heroic, but . . .
there is no happiness like seeking and embracing the ' hard
things ' for the love of Jesus." (July, 1914.)

(J). " Remember the devil is a bad spiritual director, and
you may always recognise his apparently good suggestions
by the disturbances they cause in the soul. Our Lord would
never urge you to turn away from a path which is leading
you nearer to Himself, nor frighten you with the prospect
of future unbearable trials. If they do come, grace will
come also and make you abound with joy in all your
tribulations ." (July, 1913.)

THE CROSS 201

(K). 'You may make the most complete and absolute
offering of yourself to God to bear every pain He may wish
to send. Renew this frequently and place yourself in His
hands as His willing victim to be immolated on the altar
of sacrifice. But it is better not to ask directly for great
sufferings ; few of the saints did so."1 (April. 1912.)

(L). "I read through your diary of little victories with
intense joy, until I came to the entry, ' actually felt glad
at receiving a snub to-day,' when I felt my cup of happiness
was full. . . . This is what I have been longing for.
. . . To yearn for, to seek and delight in the hard thing,
is not only the road to heroic sanctity, but means a life of
wonderful interior joy." (February, 1916.)

(M) " God wants you to suffer willingly. Many rebel and
fight against what God gives them ; many more take their
cross in a resigned ' can't be helped ' spirit ; but very few
look upon these things as real blessings and kiss the Hand
that strikes them." (1912.)

(6.) LITTLE THINGS.

Idealism, however fervent and absorbing, must never be
an excuse for vague and unpractical emotion. As already
pointed out,2 the genius of S. Ignatius consisted in his careful
and methodic exploitation of religious energy Steam is of
no use, rather a nuisance, until we have a cylinder and piston
for it. How much spiritual fervour goes to waste, without
a particular examen and definite applications ! A gallon of
petrol might be misused to blow a car sky-high ; with care
and inventiveness it can be employed to propel it to the
top of a hill. These comparisons will show us that Ignatius,
though a soldier, might be even more aptly described as a
spiritual engineer. There is always this touch in Jesuit

i. — Compare Mgr. d'Hulst : "After offering the Holy Sacrifice for you and
praying-, I tell you there is a slight change to be made in the terms of your
offering. Instead of wishing for suffering, you must wish for the surrender of
your whole self to all He may desire of you." — The Way of the Heart : Letters
oj Direction, Eng. trans. 1913, p. 306.

2. — See pp. Hi, 121.

202 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

spirituality. Not too much of the spectator's aesthetic
appreciation of a mighty spiritual cataract, rather a tendency
to calculate its horse-power and to get it harnessed and
guided. In the case of a naturally impulsive, emotional
and perhaps wayward character like that of Fr. Doyle, the
effects and advantages of this applied science of the soul
are particularly obvious. Not only in his own case, but
especially in directing others, he sought not to deaden energy,
not to paralyse will-power, not to kill emotion, but to convert
them all into driving forces for the mills of God. And God's
mills grind exceeding slow ! The just awakened energy of
the novice usually seeks to expend itself in weird ventures,
in sudden outbursts, in anarchic violence, in impossible
outlets. Ordinary life, with its dull tasks and sluggish
routine, seems unworthy of the high ideals and chivalrous
emprise of one who has caught the accents of Christ. So
too thought the erstwhile Don Ifiigo, now Christ's pilgrim,
clad in the picturesque aristocracy of sheer beggary. Far
otherwise did he begin to think as he toiled at Latin grammar
in Barcelona, learnt logic at Alcala and studied theology at
Paris. And finally this great stream of spiritual energy
which started with wild turbulence in Loyola and Manresa,
is conveyed — sluiced and piped, as it were, — to a dingy room
in Rome where Ignatius dealt with administration and
correspondence

It is the lesson which Fr. Doyle loved to teach. He
showed his spiritual children how to focus their idealism on
the seemingly little things of life and the day's drab details.
Little things — why do we call them little at all ? We must
not measure spirituality in cubic feet, nor should we judge
holiness by the acreage of our activities. " Nothing is too
small to offer to God," Fr. Doyle used to say ; for what is
small to men may be great in the Master's eyes. It is in
little acts that heroism is acquired, it is by patient per
severance and methodic effort that sanctity is won.1 Such
is the message straight from his own life, a life whose real
greatness was within.

•• — Fr. Doyle was very insistent on businesslike and systematic efforts. Thus
he would make his penitent note down certain failing's or act* of self-denial and
on his next visit he would carefully inspect the little book. See extract L, p. 201.

LITTLE THINGS 203

A). " What more insignificant than the ordinary daily
duties of religious life ! Each succeeding hour brings with
it some allotted task, yet in the faithful performance of these
trifling acts of our everyday life lies the secret of true sanctity.
Too often the constant repetition of the same acts, though
in themselves they be of the holiest nature, makes us go-
through them in a mechanical way We meditate, we assist
at holy Mass, more from a sense of duty than from any
affection to prayer. Our domestic duties, our hours of
labour, of teaching, are faithfully discharged — but what
motive has animated us in their performance ? Have we
not worked because we must, or unconsciously because the
bell has rung, rather than from the motive of pleasing God
and doing His will ? " (i5th April, 1905.)

(B) " One thing I ask of you, dear child : Don't be a
saint by halves, but give Him all He asks and always."

(C). " Life is only a day quickly passed and gone, but
the merit of it, the glory given to God, will remain for ever.
Give Him all you can generously and lovingly, do not let
one little sacrifice escape you, they are dear to Him because
He finds so few really generous souls who think only of Him
and never of themselves."

(D). " Live for the day, as you say — but let it be a generous
day. Have you ever tried giving God one day in which you
refused Him nothing, a day of absolute generosity ? "

(E) . " Try to take your days one by one as they come
to you. The hard things of yesterday are past, and you
are not asked to bear what to-morrow may have in store ;
so that the cross is really light when you take it bit by bit."
(November, 1914.)

(F). "I am glad you have found profit from the particular
examen You must push on with this, for remember you
are no beginner in the spiritual life. From time to time
increase the number of acts when you find facility coming.
However it is better to keep to a fixed number steadily
than to go jumping up and down, better, for example, to
make twenty-five acts every day than fifty one day and
ten the next The rule to keep before you is : Look upon

204 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

nothing as too small to offer to God. Big sacrifices ' do not
come very often, and generally we are too cowardly to make
them when they do. But little ones are as plentiful as
blackberries in September, and stiffen the moral courage,
by the constant repetition of them, to do, in the end, even
heroic things. Expect, too, that at times this steady keeping
up the fixed number will pall upon you ; possibly you will
even pitch up the examen for a day or two, but pick it up
again and no harm will be done ; these failures will become
fewer by degrees. Again, nothing is too small ; in fact the
smaller it is the better, so long as it is some denial
of your will, some act you would just as soon not do."
(February 1912.)

(G). " Possibly you have been a little too generous in
the time of fervour and have attempted more than you
were able for, which would account in part, at least, for the
feeling of ' being crushed.' However you should have
been prepared to find that the generous spirit which carried
you along from sacrifice to sacrifice was not intended to
last, it was only meant to strengthen you for the time of
trial. To serve God generously when the music of con
solation is sounding in our cars is no doubt pleasing to Him,
but to be equally faithful when all is black and dark is not
only a thousand times more sanctifying, but is heroic virtue.
Hence God in His eagerness for our perfection takes away,
at times, all sensible consolation, yet is really nearer to us
than before.

' The great danger to be faced is that one feels inclined
to lose heart, to be discouraged — ' the devil's pet walking
stick ' — and in the end to give up all striving for perfection,
aiming only at being content with that curse of every religious
house — Mediocrity.

"As I said before, my dear child, I fancy you tried to do
too much, to be too generous. Do not try to run till you
can walk well. Draw up a list of certain little sacrifices
which you feel God is asking from you and which you know
you will be able to give Him without very much difficulty —
better be cowardly than too generous. Then, come what
may, be faithful to your list and shake it in the face of the
tempter when he suggests that you should give it up. After

LITTLE THINGS 205

some time, when greater facility has come by practice, you
might add a little to what you did at first, and so on till,
please God, one day you will be able to say, ' I know only
Jesus Christ, and Him crucified ; with Christ I am nailed
to the Cross.' ' (7 Cor. 2. 2 ; Galat. 2. 19.)

(H). " I think He would like you to pay more attention
to little things, looking on nothing as small, if connected
with His service and worship. Also try to remember that
nothing is too small to offer to Him — that is, the tiniest act
of self-conquest is of immense value in His eyes, and even
lifting one's eyes as an act of love brings great grace "

(I). "I want you to stick to two things : the aspirations
and the tiny acts of self-conquest Count them and mark
them daily. You need nothing else to make you a saint.
The weekly total, growing bigger as you persevere, will show
you how fast you are growing in perfection."

(J). " It is indeed easy to condemn oneself to death, tc
make a generous offering of self-immolation ; but to carry
out the execution daily is more than most can do. . .
Go on bravely, don't expect too much from yourself, for
God often leaves dne powerless in acts of self-conquest in
order to make one humble and to have more recourse to
Him. Remember above all that even one small victory
makes up for a hundred defects."

(K). " The notebook was most helpful to me as showing
the way by which Jesus is leading you to perfection if only
you have the courage to face it. All these trials, snubs,
unpleasantnesses, etc., do not come to you by chance. They
are precious jewels from the hand of God ; and, if you could
only bring yourself to look upon them in the right light,
they would make you a really great saint."

206 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J

(7.) PRAYER.

The extracts given above from Fr. Doyle's letters make
it evident that the ideals which he sought to impress on
others were partial transcripts from his own inner life. It
will therefore be clear that his strenuous advocacy of prayer
was also born in his personal experience. This indeed has
already been made manifest in dealing with his belief in the
apostolate of prayer and in the efficacy of aspirations.1
Hence it will be sufficient to collect here a few further
quotations. Brief as these are, they illustrate his conviction
•of the importance of prayer, his idea that it ought, so to
speak, be spread out thinly over one's day or one's life as
well as heaped up in the early morning or during a retreat,
his wonderful faith in prayer as the unseen motive-power
of missionary effort. " Get more prayer into your life if
you can," " Give the full time to spiritual duties," are
typical pieces of advice. He never held out delusive
prospects of easy contemplation. " Don't forget," he wrote
once, " that prayer is the hardest corporal penance." " It
is an unnatural thing," he said another time, " that is, a
supernatural thing, and hence must be hard always ; for
prayer takes us out of our natural element. But pray on
all the same." There is only one way of learning, he used
to say, and that is to pray often, to fill up all the little chinks
and interstices of our day with aspirations and prayers.
" Keep in God's presence going through the house and try
to grasp then any lights you may have got in prayer." On
the other hand, he tried to make prayer as easy, unstrained
and familiar as he could. He prescribed no rigid method,
he made no attempt to move all along the same groove.
" Follow the attraction of the Holy Spirit, for all souls are
not led by the same path." was his tolerant counsel.2 He
would have agreed with St. Teresa's saying3 : " Mental

i.— See pp. 65, 113.

2. — See p. ii'jf. Once when a religious, a penitent of his, asked him how he
himself prayed, he knelt down and with childlike simplicity and directness
repeated some of the thoughts and prayers of his morning meditation.

ir—Life viii. 7.

PRAYER 207

prayer is, in my opinion, nothing else but being on terms
of friendship with God, frequently conversing in secret with
Him who, we know, loves us."

(A). " You seem to have fallen into the common snare of
Satan, namely, mistaking your work for prayer and pouring
yourself out over it. Thus the soul gets dried up and the
body so fatigued that a proper service of God is impossible.
Give the full time to spiritual duties. Try to get a minute
to yourself, and a half hour on Sundays, and walk about
quietly and examine your state. Note where you have
fallen off, etc., and begin again, instead of waiting for the
next retreat to pull you up."

(B). " You seem lately to have had a bad attack of want
of confidence in God and a feeling of despair of ever becoming
a saint. Yet, my dear child, it is neither impossible or
hopeless as long as God leaves it in our power to pray. You
know these words of Fr. de Ravignan (leaflet enclosed).1
I never realized how true they were until I began to go about
the country and get into close touch with souls. I assert
fearlessly that if only we all prayed enough, and I mean
by that a constant, steady, unflagging stream of aspirations,
petitions, etc., from the heart, there is not one, no matter
how imperfect, careless or even sinful, who would not become
a saint and a big one. I am perfectly and painfully conscious
that, for my own part, I do not pray a hundredth part of
what I should or what God wants."

(C). " Without constant union with our Lord there is not
and cannot be any real holiness, one reason being that without
recollection the inspirations of the Holy Spirit are missed
and with them a host of opportunities of little sacrifices
and a shower of graces. As a means of gaining greater
recollection, each morning at Holy Communion invite Jesus
to dwell in your heart during the day as in a tabernacle.
Try all day to imagine even His bodily presence within you

i. — This leaflet contained the words : " Believe me, my dear friends, believe
.an experience ripened by thirty years in the sacred ministry. I do here affirm
that all deceptions, all spiritual deficiencies, all miseries, all falls, all faults,
and even the most serious wanderings out of the right path, all proceed from
this single source — a want of constancy in prayer. Live the life of prayer,
learn to bring everything, to change everything into prayer — pains and trials
and temptations of all kinds."

208 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

and often turn your thoughts inwards and adore Him as
He nestles next your heart in a very real manner, quite
different from His presence in all creation. This habit is
not easily acquired, especially in a busy life like yours, but
much may be done by constant effort. At times you will
have to leave Him alone entirely, but as soon as you can,
get back to His presence again." (February, 1912.)

(D). "As regards prayer, you should try to follow the
attraction of the Holy Spirit, for all souls are not led by the
same path. It would not be well to spend all the time in
vocal prayer, there should be some meditation, thought or
contemplation. Try ' basking in the sun of God's love,'
that is, quietly kneeling before the Tabernacle, as you would
sit enjoying the warm sunshine, not trying to do anything,
except love Him, but realizing that, during all the time
you arc at His feet, more especially when dry and cold,
grace is dropping down upon your soul and you are growing
fast in holiness." (May, 1913.)

(E). "You ask how to pray well — the answer is, Pray
often, in season and out of season, against yourself, in spite
of yourself — there is no other way What a man of prayer
St. James, the Apostle, (his feast is to-day) must have been
since his knees became like those of a camel ! When shall
we religious realize the power for good that prayer, constant,
unflagging prayer, puts into our hands ? Were you con
vinced of this, you would not ' envy me my spiritual work.'
Because if you liked, you could do more than any priest
who is not a man of prayer, though you might not have
the satisfaction of seeing the result in this world. Did it
ever strike you that when our Lord pointed out the ' fields
white for the harvest,' He did not urge His Apostle to go
and reap it, but to pray ? "l (May, 1912.)

(F). " ' I have called upon Thee in the day of my trouble.'
(Psalm -85. 7) Jesus is our comforter. What burden is
there which He cannot lighten ? What cross, He cannot
make sweet ? Be our troubles what they may, if only we
will call on Jesus and implore His aid, we shall find our

I. — S. John 4. 35 ; S. Matthew 9. 38.

PRAYER 209

sufferings lessen and the rough ways smoothed for our
bleeding feet." (8th February, 1905.)

(G). " How often have we murmured against the good
God because He has refused our petitions or frustrated our
plans. Can we look into the future as God can do ? Can
we see now and realize to the full the effect our request
would have had if granted ? God loves us, He loves us too
dearly to leave us to the guidance of our poor judgements ;
and when He turns a deaf ear to our entreaties, it is as a
tender Father would treat the longings of a child for what
would work him harm." (24th February, 1905.)

(H). "You are bound to throw yourself heart and soul
into the work God has given you to do. The devil's object
is to get you so absorbed in your work, so anxious and worried
about its success, that you will become, as you say, a religious
only in name. However, to see his snares, as St. Ignatius
calls them, is half the battle. You must go directly against
what he wants. But how ? First try to stir up your faith
and see in everything, big and little, that happens the hand
of God, remembering that He is often more glorified by our
failure than by success. This will prevent irritability, and
having done your best, will lessen worry, though for most
of us it is impossible quite to free ourselves from that weak
ness. Next, a big effort, and it needs a big one at first,
resolutely to give every moment to the spiritual duties and
to shut out every other thought. Prayer calms the soul as
nothing else can, more especially if during the day you help
the grace of God by trying to keep your heart united with
God, who is dwelling within your very soul. At all costs
you must conquer and keep your peace of mind (after all
in a few years what will it matter to any of us whether we
have gained success or not ?), otherwise good-bye to

holiness Though little acts of penance and

aspirations may seem to be done mechanically, on no account
should you omit them, they are far more meritorious in
your present state." (October, 1911.)

(I). " You seem to be a little troubled at finding yourself
cold at prayer and as if our Lord had abandoned you. Were
it otherwise I should feel uneasy ; for this is one of the best

210 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

signs that you are really pleasing to God, since He puts
your fidelity to the test by sending desolation. There is
no happiness to be compared to the sweets one tastes at
times in prayer ; but this, the greatest of all sacrifices, He
will ask from you at times. Hence in darkness and dryness,
when weariness and disgust come on you, when the thousand
petty worries of every day crowd upon you, sursum corda,
raise your eyes with a glad smile to the face of Jesus, for all
is well and He is sanctifying you." (October, 1912.)

(J). " Work away at the life of union, but union remember
with God within you, not outside ; so many go wrong on this
point. Do not give up prayer on any account, no matter
how dry or ' rotten ' you feel ; every moment, especially
before Him in the Tabernacle, is a certain, positive gain ;
the effect will be there though you may not feel it. If you
feel drawn ' to rest in God,' to let yourself sink down as it
were into Him, do so without bothering to say anything.
I think the best of all prayers is just to kneel quietly and
let Jesus pour Himself into your soul." (July, 1917.)

(K)« "A deadly pitfall lies hidden in the desire of some
to pour themselves out in works of zeal for God's glory, to
which the evil spirit not uncommonly urges those whom he
sees full of zeal. It is evident even to one little versed in
the way of the spiritual life that a multiplicity of external
occupations, even though good and meritorious in themselves,
must by their very nature hinder that calm peace of soul
which is essential for interior union with God.

" For one who has advanced in the way of interior union,
no life, no matter how occupied or full of distracting work,
will prove much of a hindrance ; such a one has learned
how to ride on the waves of worldly care and not to be engulfed,
by them, he refuses to put himself out or be totally absorbed
in things which have only a fleeting interest ; but it is not
so with the beginner in the spiritual life. Overwork has
broken down not a few weakly bodies but has ruined far
more souls, drying up if not destroying all love for prayer
and the things of God, leaving the wreck of many a ' spoiled
saint ' strewn on the road of life.

"A heavy responsibility rests on the shoulders of those

PRAYER 211

who heap an impossible burden on the shoulders of the
' willing horse/ more anxious for the material success
of their particular charitable undertaking than for the
spiritual progress of those whom God has entrusted to
their care." (1916.)

(8.) MORTIFICATION.

It will be useful to record here some sentences conveying
Fr. Doyle's advice to many different correspondents on the
subject of penance In this matter he always laid stress on
mortification of the will, especially concerning habitual
faults. At times he could put this very bluntly. Thus a
religious who was rather addicted to criticism and comment
asked him to recommend her some special acts of self-denial
to be practised at table. " I recommend you, my dear
Sister," he replied, " to put a little mustard on your tongue ! "
So while he firmly inculcated asceticism, he was by no means
a fanatic for bodily penance. The following quotations will
clearly prove his gentleness, thoughtfulness, and prudence.
" He saved others, himself he cannot save." (5. Matthew
27. 42.) Is there not a sense in which this is true, not only
of Christ, but of His saints ?

(A). " I am glad you wrote to me for I, at least, can under
stand exactly what you are suffering ; it is really a question
of nerves, not of soul. You arc run down like an old fiddle
string, hence you can get no sweet music out of yourself,
try as you may. Now, my child, don't be troubled or uneasy,
imagining God is displeased with you or that you are abusing
grace. For a little while give yourself all the rest., relaxation
and indulgence you can ; there is to be no penance, few
spiritual duties, except Mass and Communion, and you are
just to do like a little child whatever your superiors tell
you, read story books, etc. ; rest and riot is to be your pro
gramme just now. When the old nerves get a bit settled,
you will run ahead like a giant to sanctity. I am afraid
you must make up your mind for fits of depression from time
to time, but that, too, will pass when you become more

212 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J

your old self I shall pray for you and I know you will do
the same when you get good again, but not before ! "
(May, 1912.)

(B). " It ought to encourage you to feel the desire for
penance growing in your soul. After all is it not a mockery
to call ourselves the spouses of a crucified Love if our lives
are not to some extent crucified also ? You need to be
careful in the matter of privation of sleep more than in other
things, but let there be no limit to interior mortification."

(C). " Every little victory in the matter of food is a real
triumph, for this is a real test of generosity. You will find
many persons given to prayer, works of zeal, penance, but
most seem to fly from the denial of their appetite. ' My
health, Father ; the greater glory of God, etc.' St Francis
de Sales used to say, ' Unless you deny your appetite, you
will never be a saint ' — a mighty saying ! "

(D). " To stay on your feet when you have a bad headache
may be even heroic and is not likely to injure you in any
way. What a love the saints all had for suffering ! There
must be something in it."

(E). "I want you to give up all corporal penance and
to take for your particular examen ' self-denial in little
things ' Make ten acts for each examen, and the more
trivial they are the better, so you will do twenty a day."
(January, 1912.)

(F). " I believe strongly in corporal penance as a
means to the end. But a denial of your own will often
costs more than a hundred strokes of the discipline. To
interior penance you need not, and must not, put any limit."1
(February, 1912.)

(G). " If you are not yet strong enough to seek
humiliations, just accept the little reverses that come. When
you say or do awkward things, give them to our Lord and

I. — " We have nothing- of our own but our will," says the Cur£ of Ars. "It
is the only thing- which God has so placed in our own power that we can make
an offering of it to Him. Thus we may be assured that a single act of
renunciation of the will is more pleasing to God than a fast of thirty days."-
A. Monnin, Life of the B. Curt d'Ars, p. 251. "Oh how I love those little
mortifications which are seen by no one, such as to rise a quarter of an hour
earlier or to rise a few moments in the night for prayer ! " (ibid. p. 97).

MORTIFICATION 213

tell Him you are glad of them. Say : 'All these are
humiliations, so they must be good for me.' '

(H). " The big penance must be the joyful embracing,
for the love of suffering Jesus, the many little hard and
painful things which come to you hourly. Take them
all from His hand sweetly, trying to seek the unpleasant
things and the hard disagreeable things ; and keep hammering
away at the tiny acts of self-denial. This is the goal to aim
at : I am never to do a thing I like. Don't try to do that
at present — it might easily dishearten and crush you — but
keep it always in view."

(I). " I do not want, in fact I forbid you, to be imprudent
in the matter of corporal penances. But, my dear child, if
you let a whole fortnight go by without any self-inflicted
pain, can you honestly look Jesus in the face and say, ' I
am like to Him ? '

(J). "I must warn you against the danger of wishing to
go too fast or to do too much at first. You must begin
humbly and build up — that is, increase your penances by
degrees, otherwise you might be very generous for a short
time, then get tired and give up all. As a rule do not make
any penance a great burden — it is better to discontinue it
if it becomes such — nor do anything excessive or continued
very long."

(K) ' Your desire for penance is an excellent sign, and
this in spite of what X said. But have a fixed amount to
be done each day and do not be doing it in fits and starts.
Anything like what you call ' frenzy ' ought to be suspected
and resisted."

(L). " In urging you to be generous, I wish you at the
same time to be sensible. Keep in mind these two rules,
(i) If after honest trial you find anything is really injurious
or hampers your work, it must be abandoned. (2) Be on
your guard lest the body be too much oppressed and the
spirit take harm, as says wise Ignatius.1 Everything is not
for everyone, nor must you undertake too much in the
beginning." (1912.)

I — " It is not good that anyone should be so loaded with bodily work
that the spirit is oppressed and the body suffers harm." — Summarium Con-
stitutionumt 47.

214 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

CHAPTER IX.

MILITARY CHAPLAIN

(1916)

has hitherto been nothing outwardly remarkable
I in Fr. Doyle's life. Hence his biography has largely
consisted in a study of his spiritual ideals and of those
interior strivings and hidden virtues which were mostly
unknown even to those with whom he lived. But now
there comes a phase in his life which can be esteemed, not
only by those who know the inner springs of action, but
also by such as measure worth by external achievement. It
is only when the life which was hidden in religious houses
and expressed in the ordinary activities of a missioner, is
transferred to dug-out and trench and is seen amid the reek
and din of battle, that most people will appreciate greatness
of soul. There is herein a further advantage. Many who
read the chapters on Fr. Doyle's interior life and morti
fications will be inclined to picture him as a dour austere
individual in whom the sources of human feelings and genuine
affection had been dried up. And, on the other hand, they
who knew him only as a military chaplain, saw indeed his
wonderful geniality and helpfulness, but could hardly suspect
the inner drama of his soul, his mystic immolation and
unceasing recollection. Now it is precisely the juxtaposition
of these two aspects which is necessary in order to judge
Fr. Doyle's character as a whole and to see whence heroism
comes and whither holiness leads. The events of the last
year and a half of his life will, therefore, be recounted more
in detail. This is fortunately possible with the aid of the
long letters which he regularly sent to his Father, supple
mented by a few more intimate notes and jottings. This
correspondence was, of course, never intended for publication ;
it is therefore the more interesting biographically. Its direct
and homely language is far more eloquent than any attempt
at studied composition. For we have not only a vivid
picture of what warfare really means but also the accurate
transcript of one man's actual thoughts and deeds.

THE GREAT ADVENTURE 215

(i.) THE GREAT ADVENTURE.

" I used to discuss with my brother," says S. Teresa,1
" how we could become martyrs. We made up our minds
to start together, begging our way for the love of God, to
the country of the Moors, so that we might be beheaded
there." The youthful crusaders were, however, ignominiously
brought back to Avila by their uncle ; but the spirit of this
great adventure remained. Rodrigo died as a captain in
the conquest of La Plata ; Teresa learnt that pati was harder
than won'. He whose life we are here chronicling had a
double answer to his childish ambition for martyrdom,
Teresa's life and Rodrigo's death. " Did I ever tell you,"
he asked in an intimate letter, 5th November, 1914, " did
I ever tell you that even as a child I was convinced that
one day God would give me the grace of martyrdom ? When
quite small I read and re-read every martyr's life in the
twelve volumes of Butler's Lives of the Saints, and longed
and prayed to be a martyr, and I have often done so ever
since. As years went on, the desire grew in intensity, and
even now the sufferings of the martyrs, their pictures, and
everything connected with their death, have a strange
fascination for me and help me much. When I was ordained
I begged for the foreign missions, never doubting that my
request would be granted. But it was not to be, and never
can be now ; and I was left wondering why God should
have put that intense longing into my heart when He did
not mean to gratify it. Then slowly light came. He did
ask martyrdom, but not in the way I thought, a martyrdom
far longer and a thousand times more painful and crucifying,
a living martyrdom and a ceaseless crucifixion. So strong
and clear is this light, especially recently, that I never pray
now : ' Lord, what will You have me do ? ' but, ' Lord,
help me to do what I know You wish.' Yes, Jesus is right
when He says : ' I have told him over and over again what
I want, but he will not give it to Me.' That is what is breaking
my heart, as I feel it is breaking His, the pleading for a life

I. — Life i. 4.

2i6 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

of absolute annihilation, and at times what I can only call
my powerlessness to give it ; want of love, of generosity,
is there, I know, but these words do not really express my
state. If He does mean me to lead the life which is sketched
out in my mind, then I can understand why He lets me
feel my utter misery and powerlessness, so that I may see
clearly that it must be all the work of His grace. Jesus is
very gentle but very firm with me. For some years past
He has shown me that I must not shrink from what He
asks. He is ever beside me urging me in the same direction —
you know where His divine Face was turned so constantly
during life and at its close. I am not afraid of sacrifice ;
He has given me an intense love of suffering and humiliation.
But why, oh ! why did He make me so wretchedly weak
that I cannot take one step if His strong arm is not
around me ? "

Still he did not abandon the hope of laying down his life
for Christ. Four days later he says in another letter : " What
I am going to tell you now may pain you. I have volunteered
for the Front as Military Chaplain, though perhaps I may
never be sent. Naturally I have little attraction for the
hardship and suffering the life would mean ; but it is a
glorious chance of making the ' ould body ' bear something
for Christ's dear sake. However, what decided me in the
end was a thought that flashed into my mind when in the
chapel : the thought that if I get killed I shall die a martyr
of charity and so the longing of my heart will be gratified.
This much my offering myself as chaplain has done for me :
it has made me realise that my life may be very short and
that I must do all I can for Jesus now."

A similar thought occurs in his private diary under next
day's date, (loth November, 1914) : " My offering myself
as war chaplain to the Provincial has had a wonderful effect
on me. I long to go and shed my blood for Jesus and, if
He wills it, to die a martyr of charity. The thought that
at any moment I may be called to the Front, perhaps to die,
has roused a great desire to do all I can while I have life.
I feel great strength to make any sacrifice and little difficulty
in doing so. I may not have long now to prove my love
for Jesus."

THE GREAT ADVENTURE 217

He waited a year before the sacrifice was asked of him.
On i5th November, 1915, he makes this brief entry :
" Received my appointment from the War Office as chaplain
to the 1 6th Division. Fiat voluntas tua." " What the
future has in store I know not," he writes to a correspondent
on the same day ; " but I have given Jesus all to dispose
of as He sees best. My heart is full of gratitude to Him
for giving me this chance of being really generous and of
leading a life that will be truly crucified." How hard he
found this may be gathered from some words written a
fortnight later on the eve of his starting for Whitely Camp,
Surrey : "A last farewell, for I shall be far away when you
receive this. My via crucis is nearly over ; but only in
heaven will you know how I have suffered all this week.
It is all for Him and I do not regret it ; but He filled my
cup of bitterness this evening when I left my darling old
Father. Thank God, at last I can say, I have given Him
all ; or rather He has taken all from me. May His sweet
will be done." He seems to have had a premonition of
death, as indeed had several who knew his fearless zeal.
" I want you to know," he writes on I4th January, 1916,
" what I went through by volunteering for the Front. God
made me feel with absolute certainty — I suppose to increase
the merit of the offering — that I shall be killed. The struggle
was hard, for I did not want to die ; not indeed that I am
afraid of death, but the thought that I could never again
do more for God or suffer for Him in heaven made the sacrifice
too bitter for words." In the same strain he writes from
Bordon Camp, Hants, a week later to a dear friend who
was anxious for him : "He knows what is best for all of
us. Would it not be more perfect then not to pray for my
safety but rather that His designs may be carried out ?
. . . I have only one regret now that death is such a
distinct possibility — that I have done so little for our Blessed
Lord and His glory. But it consoles me much to remember
that one can still make up by a loving generosity for a past
which is beyond recall."

A few letters survive to tell us his impressions of camp
life. On i5th December, 1915, he writes : " I cannot say
I am quite in love with camp life, which in many respects

2i8 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

is very repellent. But even in these disagreeable things
there is a joy and secret pleasure, since it means all the more
merit and, let us hope, a richer harvest of souls. My eyes
have been opened still more to the awful godlessness of the
world and the need, the immense need, there is for us who
owe so much to our Blessed Lord to try and make up to Him
for all this by greater love and generosity. It will never
equal, I fear, the worldly generosity of these men. For
example, this morning a regiment marched out of camp
at 5 a.m. in torrents of rain merely for exercise. When
they return to-night, they will dry their wet underclothing
by sleeping in them ! "

On New Year's Day Fr. Doyle with his regiment (8th Royal
Irish Fusiliers) moved from Whitely Camp to Bordon Camp.
The change was welcome to him for the reason given in the
following letter four days later1 : " Before I thank you for
your letter which was doubly welcome in my exile, I want
to tell you the New Year's gift our Lord gave me. We had
an awful time of storm and rain coming over here, but
the first thing I saw on reaching the barrack square was a
hut marked R.C. Church. I took it for granted that it was
just the usual hut set apart for Sunday Mass, but on trying
the door you can imagine my delight to find a small but
beautifully furnished chapel with a lamp burning before the
altar, which made my heart leap with joy.

" I felt as if all the hardships of my life had vanished,
for I had found Him again who makes the hard things easy
and the bitter things sweet. What did anything matter
now since I could go and tell Him all about it and get help
and consolation from Jesus. I really think that this month's
privation of the Blessed Sacrament has taught me the true
value of the Tabernacle. But His goodness did not stop
here ; the other priest who had the key gave it to me without
my even suggesting it, so I can go to Him at any hour of
the day or night if I want to — do you think I shall ? Is
He not good to have put the little chapel where He did, as
it might have been in any other part of the camp, miles
away? I do not think there is a happier man in England

I. — See also page 109.

THE GREAT ADVENTURE

than I to-day. I am writing this, sitting on a piece of wood-
no chairs in our quarters. There are about 1,200 Catholics
in our brigade now. I get a few ' big fish ' each evening."

The reference to soul-fishing will remind us that his life
was by no means contemplative at this time, except in so
far as he was able to be Martha by day and Mary by night.
His work was very arduous and grew more so as the day
of departure drew near. It was the last great chance for
the soul of many an Irish lad. ' There is nothing like the
prospect of a German shell," wrote Fr. Doyle, " for putting
the fear of God into one ; and many an old rooster whom
no mission ever moved has been blown out of his nest by the
news of our departure." " We are having desperate work
these days," he told a friend (i4th February, 1916). " The
good God is simply pouring out His grace on these poor
fellows and reconciling them before they die. It has to
be quick work, no time for ' trimmings.' I have positively
a pain in my arm giving Absolution and Communions in
the morning. I was able to manage Exposition all day
last Sunday, which brought in many an erring sheep. I
realize that from this on my life will be a martyrdom in a
way I never thought of. I have got to love my brave lads
almost like my own brothers and sisters. They are so wild
and reckless, and at the same time so full of faith and love
of God and His Blessed Mother. Yet soon I shall have to
see the majority of them blown to bits, torn and mangled
out of shape. Our Brigade is leaving to-morrow for France.
I am waiting till Friday night, so as to get in all the con
fessions I can. Do pray I may be able to say daily Mass.
I shall carry everything necessary on my back, and so may
manage the Holy Sacrifice in the train. Whilst here I have
given Jesus two things which He often asked, but which
I refused through ' prudence and a fear of interfering with
important work/ — a very old trick of the devil, which my
eyes are open to see now. The first was sometimes to fast
strictly all day — once I did a hard day's work ending up
with a fifteen miles' march on a cup of tea. The second
was to spend the whole night in prayer. Including con
fessions I was able one night to pass eleven hours with Jesus — •
telling Him every five minutes I was going after five more."

220 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

(2.) EN ROUTE.

He received unexpected orders from the General to proceed
overseas on Thursday, iyth February. Half an hour before
starting he wrote to his father : " I set out to face the future
with a certain amount of trepidation. . . . Strange to
say, I have not the smallest anxiety about the possible
dangers of warfare, not so great for me as for others, but
I do dread the horrors of the battlefield which all say no
words can picture. Still it is a consolation to know what
a comfort the mere presence of a priest is to both officers
and men alike. They are one and all going to face their
duty with the joy of heart which comes from a clean
conscience ; many of them had not been to confession for
over twenty years." Of the crossing itself he wrote to his
father a brief description which indirectly reveals some
characteristic traits. One passage may be quoted : ' The
moon was surrounded by a magnificent halo or crown, which
I promptly bagged for myself. I was fortunately able to
get some tea on shore, for though they served us out with
lifebelts, nothing in the shape of dinner or rations came
along. There were only a few bunks which I left to the
other officers, and as there was no place to sleep, except
the stoke hole, which I was not having this journey, I picked
a comfortable ? corner on deck and prepared for a snooze,
when alas ! down came the rain. Providence however came
to my rescue : the second engineer passing by very kindly
offered me a share of his cabin, and I slept like a top on the
settee. He was awfully kind to me, even offering me a
share of his bunk, and this morning he had hot coffee and
buns ready when I awoke ; but as I was hoping to be able
to celebrate Mass on shore, I had to postpone that luxury.
At present there seems little prospect of either Mass or
breakfast, as it is now nine and we have been lying off shore
since four this morning. 11.30 a.m. Just landed. Seeing
there was no chance for Mass, I rooted up a Chinaman and
secured a welcome cup of tea ; he brought me also a plate
of cold liver and potatoes likewise cold — a dish to tempt
one's appetite after a channel crossing ! "

EN ROUTE 22*

After a tiresome day at Havre, the rain never for a moment
ceasing, the men entrained for their base. And after twenty-
one and a half hours in the train there was a march of twelve
miles. " I shall not try to describe that march," writes
Fr. Doyle, " but you can gather what it was, with strong
big men falling down now and then from sheer exhaustion.
Under other circumstances I should not have minded the
tramp, but I was near the end of my tether and was carrying
a great coat, pack and water-bottle." After about two
hours' plodding, an officer seeing Fr. Doyle's exhaustion
induced him to get on an artillery limber. It was only
when the waggons stopped at 2 a.m., that he discovered
he was separated from the infantry and his regiment had
gone to its unknown destination ; he was lost. After three
hours' sleep under a cart, he walked on for a couple of miles
and found himself in a good-sized town. Though except
for two sandwiches he had not tasted food for thirty-five
hours, he deferred breakfast till he could say Mass. Then
finding there were no passenger trains, he boarded a slowly
moving goods train and thus, sitting on uncomfortably
explosive shells, he was taken a good way on his journey.
Finally a Catholic officer whom he chanced to meet, motored
him to his destination — Amettes, the birthplace of St.
Benedict Joseph Labre, to whom, since his college days, he
had a special devotion. Fr. Doyle had a comfortable room
in the little convent. As he had a bad chill as the result
of his three nights' exposure, he was lucky to have come
under the kindly care of the good sisters.

On 26th February the men left their comparatively snug
quarters and began moving in easy stages towards the
trenches. The grim reality of war grew nearer.

(3.) CURE OF MAZINGARBE.

" I am suffering much in every way," wrote Fr. Doyle in
a private letter on 5th March, 1916, " most of all, perhaps,
from sheer fatigue. As regards food and lodging I am not
badly off, but the discomforts of the life would be long to
tell. However, like S. Paul I can say that I superabound

222 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

with joy in all my tribulations ; for I know that they come
from God's hand and that they are working out some plan
of His in my soul. What a joy to be able to offer oneself
entirely, even life itself, each morning at Mass, and to think
that perhaps before evening He may have accepted the
offering ! " " Though the life is perhaps the very last I
would choose humanly speaking," he wrote in another letter
{i5th March), " I am ever so happy and contented, because
I know I am doing what God wants and there is much good
work to be done."

It was not long before he had an experience of real danger.
On Sunday, 5th March, he said Mass for the 8th Fusiliers.
After he had finished (about 9 o'clock) he mounted his bicycle
in order to go to the 8th Inniskillings, of whom he also had
charge, and say Mass at eleven for them. They were
stationed four miles away near the ruined village of
Mazingarbe. Fr. Doyle may be left to describe his adventure
in his own words.

" On the way I noticed that heavy firing was going on
ahead, but it was only when I reached a bend in the road
that I realized the enemy were actually shelling the very
spot I had to pass. Some soldiers stopped me, saying it
was dangerous to go on. At the moment I was wondering
what had become of the side of a vacant house which had
suddenly vanished in a cloud of smoke, and I was painfully
aware of the proximity of high explosive shells.

" Here was a fix ! I knew my regiment was waiting in
the village for Mass, and also that half of them were going
to the trenches that afternoon for the first time ; if I did
not turn up they would lose Confession and Holy Com
munion, but the only way to reach them was by the
shell-swept road. What really decided me was the thought
that I was carrying the Blessed Sacrament, and I felt that,
having our Lord Himself with me, no harm could possibly
qome to me. I mounted the bicycle and faced the music.
I don't want you to think me very brave and courageous,
for I confess I felt horribly afraid ; it was my baptism of
fire, and one needs to grow accustomed to the sound of
bursting shells. Just then I was wishing my regiment in
Jericho and every German gun at the bottom of the Red
Sea or any other hot place.

&etbune o

ks /V//^
Maz/ngarbe O

O ft

O Peronne

Map showing the approximate position of the Western Front from the

<,.•! t,» tl,,-. <r>mmo rluf'iiirr tlio ^itf li-,H",-,f" T,M£,

224 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

" Call it a miracle if you will, but the moment I turned
the corner the guns ceased firing, and not a shell fell till I
was safely in the village Church. My confidence in God's
protection was not misplaced. Naturally I did not know
this was going to happen, and it was anything but pleasant
riding down the last stretch of road, listening for the scream
of the coming shell. Have you ever had a nightmare in which
you were pursued by ten mad bulls, while the faster you
tried to run, the more your feet stuck in the mud ? These
were just my feelings as I pedalled down that blessed road
which seemed to grow longer and longer the further I went.

"At last I turned the corner, reached the Church, and
had just begun Mass when down came the hail of shells
once more. One or two must have burst very close, judging
by the way the walls shook, but I felt quite happy and quite
ready to be blown from the altar, for I saw a fine plump
Frenchwoman just behind me ; she might have been killed,
but I was quite safe !

" I mention this little adventure as I think it will console
you, as it has consoled me, showing that all the good prayers
are not in vain, and that this is a happy omen of God's loving
protection from all dangers. I have just heard that one,
at least, of the men to whom I gave Holy Communion that
morning was killed the same night in the trenches."

The cure being away at the war, Fr. Doyle regarded
himself as priest of the parish and was able to act as such
on a few occasions. Thus one evening (gih March) he heard
quite by chance that an old woman was very ill ; he gave
her the last Sacraments and she died almost before he got
home. " You see my life has many consolations," he adds ;
" and it is just as well, for this is a sad, sad war of which
you at home have but the faintest idea ; may the good
God end it soon."

This is the description which Fr. Doyle gave of some of
his activities on Sunday, igth March.

" I started at seven in the morning by giving Holy Com
munion to the men whose Confessions I had heard the
previous evening, a goodly number I am glad to say. This
was followed by a number of Confessions in French for the
townspeople and some French soldiers. I am quite ready

CURE OF MAZINGARBE 225

to face any language at the present moment. This brought
me up to nine, when my men had Mass Parade.

" By chance the whole Regiment were in the village which
meant of course that the Church would not hold them, so
I had arranged for Mass in the open. The spot I selected
was a large courtyard in front of the school — whereby hangs
a tale. Armed with the Mayor's permission I approached
the schoolmaster for his sanction, and I must say found him
most obliging and very gracious, even helping to get things
ready. It was only afterwards that I discovered that this
man was a red-hot anti-clerical, anti everything that was
good in fact, quite a bad lot, so that my request was about
the same as asking the Grand Master of the Orange Lodge
in Belfast for permission to have Mass in his hall ! He was
so staggered, I suppose, by my innocent request that he
could not find words to refuse. But the good folk of the
town are wild with delight and immensely tickled by the
idea of Mass in the porch of his school above all people ;
needless to say, they have rubbed it into him well.

" I had never celebrated Mass in the open before, and I
think the men were as much impressed as I was. It was a
glorious morning with just a sufficient spice of danger to
give the necessary warlike touch to the picture by the presence
of a German aeroplane scouting near at hand. I was a
wee bit anxious lest a bomb might come down in the middle
of the men, but I fancy our unwelcome visitor had quite
enough to do, dodging the shells from our guns which kept
booming all during Mass ; besides I felt confident that for
once our guardian angels would do their duty and protect
us all till Mass was over.

' When I finished breakfast, I found a big number of men
waiting for Confession. I gave them Communion as well,
though they were not fasting, as they were going to the
trenches that evening and being in danger of death could
receive the Blessed Sacrament as Viaticum. It was the last
Communion for many poor fellows who, I trust, are praying
for me in Heaven now.

" Having polished off all who came to the Church, I made
a raid on the men's billets, and spent a few hours in stables,
barns, in fact anywhere, shriving the remainder who gladly

226 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

availed themselves of the chance of settling up accounts
before they started for the front. The harvest, thank God,
was good and consoling. Just before they marched at six
in the evening, I gave the whole regiment — the Catholics,
at least — a General Absolution. So the men went off in the
best of spirits, light of heart with the joy of a good conscience.
' Good-bye, Father,' one shouted, ' we are ready to meet
the devil himself now ' — which I trust he did.

" I dined with the two transport officers who bring up
the rations and ammunition to the soldiers, and then mounted
my horse and rode up to Headquarters at the communication
trenches. . . . My work done, I mounted again and
made for home. It was rather weird riding past the shattered
houses in the dark, with the ping of a stray bullet to make
you uncomfortable, while every few minutes a brilliant
star-shell would burst overhead and the guns spat viciously
at each other. ... I reached my billet and tumbled
in just as the clock struck midnight."

This of course is the record of a specially strenuous day.
But it gives us a good idea of the chaplain's wonderful energy
and devotedness. He was proud of the men for whom
he worked. " They are Ireally a fine lot of fellows," he
wrote on 3ist March from the rest-billets, " and make a good
impression on the people wherever they go, more especially
here in the North of France, the mining district, where most
of the men are too busy washing the dirt out of themselves
on Sunday to bother about much else. Hence it is an object
lesson to the parlez-vous to see the crowds who come to
Mass and Communion daily and Benediction in the
evening."

(4.) Loos.

At 6 p.m. the whole four regiments of the 49th Brigade
left their quarters in Noeux-les-Mines (near Bethune)1 and
went forward to the firing line. Up to this time half remained
behind and Fr. Doyle stayed with them, as practically nothing
could be done in the trenches themselves, while at the rear

i. — See map p. 223.

LOOS 227

he had his hands full, with an odd visit to his absent men
to cheer them in their mud and slush. On this occasion
Fr. Doyle accompanied the men. Nearly all had been to
Holy Communion that morning or the morning before and
they now received General Absolution. The town of Loos
was held in a salient and as the road to it was commanded
by the German guns, it could be entered only at night.
" Single file, no smoking," came the order as the danger
zone was reached. After another mile came a second order,
" Men will advance by twos, twenty paces apart." Stray
bullets were buzzing about, fortunately no shells. Suddenly
down the line came the command, " Every man lie flat."
The road was being swept by a machine gun. After the
leaden hail had stopped, the men moved on again into the
town — where the Staff remained — and then out to man the
trenches. That night Fr. Doyle slept for the first time
in a dug-out.

Next morning, which he notes as the twenty-sixth
anniversary of his entrance into the Society, he emerged
to view the havoc and ruin of what was once a town. He
discovered a tiny wayside chapel of Our Lady of Consolation
with the altar still standing ; and here amid the inferno
of shot and shell he celebrated Mass.

That afternoon he had ' the most exciting experience of
his whole life.' The doctor and himself set out to visit the
Field Ambulance Station at the other end of the town, where
the wounded were sent at night from the Regimental Aid
Post.1 Without knowing it they walked along a road by
broad daylight in full view of the German trenches and
escaped only by a miracle. Fr. Doyle joined some officers
in the cellar, who were having a tea party enlivened by a
gramaphone. " McCormack," says Fr. Doyle, " had just
finished the last bars of 'She is far from the land/ which
brought back old memories, when suddenly Bertha Krupp
opened her mouth in a most unladylike way, let a screech
which you could hear in Dublin, and spat a huge shell right

I. — The most advanced Red Cross position, where the wounded are first
brought in by the battalion stretcher-bearers and where they are cleared by
R.A.M.C. men to the Advanced Dressing Station. The chaplains of Irish
regiments, where Catholics were so numerous, usually stationed themselves in
the Regimental Aid Post. See also p. 248.

228 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

into our courtyard." For half an hour the shells kept raining
all around and the inmates of the cellar expected each
moment to be their last. "As we went home in the dusk
of the evening," writes Fr. Doyle, " I came to the conclusion
that there are worse places to live in than poor old Ireland
and also that I had had quite enough thrills for one day."

It was not to be, however, for still another adventure
awaited him. On returning, he found that a dead man had
been brought in for burial. ' The cemetery, part of a field,
was outside the town in the open country, so exposed to
shell and rifle fire that it could not be approached by day.
As soon as it was dark we carried the poor fellow out on a
stretcher, just as he had fallen, and as quietly as we could
began to dig the grave. It was weird. We were standing
in front of the German trenches on two sides, though a fair
distance away, and every now and then a star-shell went
up which we felt certain would reveal our presence to the
enemy. I put my ritual in the bottom of my hat and with
the aid of an electric torch read the burial service, while
the men screened the light with their caps, for a single flash
would have turned the machine guns on us. I cannot say
if we were seen or not, but all the time bullets came whizzing
by, though more than likely stray ones and not aimed at
us. Once I had to get the men to lie down as things were
rather warm ; but somehow / felt quite safe, as if the dead
soldier's guardian angel was sheltering us from all danger,
till the poor dust was laid to rest. It was my first war burial
though assuredly not my last. May God rest his soul and
comfort those left to mourn him."1

The burials soon became more frequent, and Fr. Doyle
had many gruesome experiences. Thus a few days later
two bodies fell to bits when lifted off the stretcher and he
had to shovel the remains of one poor fellow into the grave—
a task which taxed his endurance. On ist April he had
a further vivid experience of the horrors of war.

" Taking a short cut across country to our lines I found
myself on the first battle field of Loos, the place where the
French had made their attack. For some reason or other

i. — As a result of this experience Fr. Doyle at once learnt the burial service
off by heart.

LOOS 229

this part of the ground has not been cleared, and it remains
more or less as it was the morning after the fight. I had
to pick my steps, for numbers of unexploded shells, bombs
and grenades lay all round. The ground was littered with
broken rifles, torn uniforms, packs, etc., just as the men
had flung them aside, charging the German trenches. Almost
the first thing I saw was a human head torn from the trunk,
though there was no sign of the body. The soldiers had
been buried on the spot they fell ; that is, if you can call
burial, hastily throwing a few shovelfuls of clay on the
corpses : there was little time, I fancy, for digging graves,
and in war time there is not much thought or sentiment
for the slain. As I walked along, I wondered had they made
certain each man was really dead. One poor fellow had
been buried, surely, before the breath had left his body,
for there was every sign of a last struggle and one arm was
thrust out from its shroud of clay. A large mound caught
my eye. Four pairs of feet were sticking out, one a German,
judging by his boots, and three Frenchmen — friend and foe
are sleeping their long last sleep in peace together. They
were decently covered compared with the next I saw ; a
handful cf earth covered the wasted body, but the legs and
arms and head were exposed to view. He seemed quite a
young lad, with fair, almost golden, hair. 'An unknown
soldier ' was all the rough wooden cross over him told me
about him ; but I thought of the sorrowing mother, far
away, thinking of her boy who was ' missing/ and hoping
against hope that he might one day come back. Thank
God, Heaven one day will reunite them both. I found a
shovel near at hand, and after a couple of hours' stiff work
was able to cover the bodies decently, so that on earth at
least they might rest in peace."

These few weeks in Loos were a time of great strain ; but,
of course, there were intermissions. After three days and
nights in the front trench the men moved back again for
three days to a village out of range of rifle fire, though not
immune from occasional shells. After this triduum of com
parative rest they moved up to the support trench, and then
three days later back once more in Loos where sometimes
the Fusiliers had to spend nearly a week. " It was a

230 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

memorable six days for us all," writes Fr. Doyle, " living
day and night literally face to face with death at every
moment. When I left my dug-out to go up or down the
street, which I had to do scores of times daily. I never knew
if I should reach the end of it without being hit by a bullet
or a piece of shell ; and in the comparative safety of the
cellar, at meals or in bed, there was always the pleasant
prospect of being blown to bits or buried alive if the shell
came in a certain direction. The life was a big strain on the
nerves, for it does make one creepy — as happened to myself
yesterday — to hear the rattle of shell splinters on the walls
on either side of the road, almost to feel the thud of a nice
jagged lump right behind and to see another fragment go
hopping off the road a few yards in front. Why, Daniel in
the lions' den had a gay time compared to a walk through
the main street of Loos." The secret of his confidence can
be guessed from the description of the Cross of Loos which
he saw on 3rd April. " I had an opportunity, a rare one,
thanks to the fog, of examining closely in daylight one of
the wonders of the war, the famous Crucifix or Calvary of
Loos. This is a very large cross standing on a mound in
a most exposed position, the centre of fierce fighting. One
of the four trees standing by it has been torn up by a shell,
the branches of the others smashed to bits, a tombstone
at its feet lies broken in half and the houses on either side
are a heap of ruins. But neither cross nor figure has been
touched. I looked closely and could not see even one bullet
hole. Surely if the Almighty can protect the image of His
Son, it will be no great difficulty to guard His priest also,
as indeed He has done in a wonderful way."

Fr. Doyle was cure of this parish of trenches, his church
being his dug-out situated in the support trench near the
doctor's dressing station.1 He also humorously included
innumerable rats, insects and vermin among his parishioners !
Of his men he was really proud. " Our poor lads are just
grand," he says. " They curse like troopers all the day,
they give the Germans hell, purgatory and heaven all combined

i. — The first night he arrived in the trenches he found two officers in the
dug-out intended for him. " But," he adds characteristically, " as they WITV
leaving next day I did not care to evict them." So he slept on a trench-board
in "an unoccupied glorified rabbit-hole."

LOOS 231

at night, and next morning come kneeling in the mud for
Mass and Holy Communion when they get a chance ; and
they beam all over with genuine pleasure when their Padre
comes past their dug-out or meets them in the trench." It
may be added that he was often in the front trench to
encourage and bless the rain-sodden, mudstained, weary
watchers. On Easter Sunday, 23rd April, he celebrated his
first Mass in the trenches. He had quite a congregation,
chiefly of officers, as the men were unable to leave their
posts. " My church was a bit of a trench," he writes, "the
altar a pile of sandbags. Though we had to stand deep
in mud, not knowing the moment a sudden call to arms
would come, many a fervent prayer went up to heaven
that morning."

(5.) A GAS ATTACK.

On the evening of Wednesday, 26th April, the Germans
began a slight bombardment which was the prelude to a
formidable attack. It was Fr. Doyle's first experience of
a battle and proved near being his last. Having met an
officer who, though only slightly scratched, was badly shaken
by an exploding shell, he brought him to his dug-out, tended
him and made him sleep in his own bunk. Later on when
he himself tried to sleep, he found he could not do so as the
night was cold and he had given up his own blanket. His
subsequent adventures may be best given in the words of
his own vivid narrative.

"About four o'clock the thought struck me that it would
be a good thing to walk back to the village to warm myself
and say an early Mass for the nuns, who usually have to
wait hours for some chaplain to turn up.1 They have been
very kind to me, and I was glad of this chance of doing
this little service to them. The village is about two miles
behind our trench, in such a position that one can leave
cover with perfect safety and walk there across the fields.
As I left the trench about 4.45, the sun was just rising. It
was a perfect morning with a gentle breeze blowing. Now

i. — A few weeks later this convent was utterly destroyed.

232 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J

and again came the crack of a rifle, but all was unusually
calm and still : little did I think of the deadly storm about
to burst and hurry so many brave men into eternity. I
had just reached a point half way between our trenches
and the village when I heard behind me the deep boom of
a German gun quickly followed by a dozen others. In a
moment our gunners replied and before I could well realize
what was taking place, the air was alive with shells. At
first I thought it was just a bit of the usual ' good morning
greeting ' and that after ten minutes' artillery ' strafe ' all
would be quiet once more. But I soon saw this was a serious
business, for gun after gun, and battery after battery, was
rapidly coming into action, until at the lowest number 500
guns were roaring all round me. It was a magnificent if
terrifying sight. The ground fairly shook with the roar of
the guns, for the ' heavies ' now had taken up the challenge,
and all round the horizon I could see the clouds of smoke
and dust from the bursting shells as both sides kept searching
for their opponents' hidden cannon.

" There I stood in the very centre of the battle, the one
man of all the thousands engaged who was absolutely safe,
for I was away from the trenches, there were no guns or
troops near me to draw fire, and though tens of thousands
of shells went over my head, not even a splinter fell near
me. I felt that the good God had quietly ' dumped ' me
there till all danger had passed.

"After a while seeing that this heavy shelling meant an
attack of some kind, and that soon many a dying man would
need my help, I turned round and made my way towards
the ambulance station. As I approached the trenches I
noticed the smoke from the bursting shells, which was hanging
thickly over them and was being driven towards me across
the fields. For once, I said to myself, I am going to smell
the smoke of a real battle, and I stepped out quite gaily—
the next moment I had turned and was running back for
my life — the Germans had started a poison gas attack which
I had mistaken for shell smoke, and I had walked straight
into it !

"After about 20 yards I stopped to see what was to be
done, for I knew it was useless to try and escape by running.

A GAS ATTACK 233

I saw (assuredly again providentially) that I had struck the
extreme edge of the gas and also that the wind was blowing
it away to my left. A hundred yards in the opposite direction,
and I was safe.

" I must confess for a moment I got a shock, as a gas
attack was the very last thing I was thinking about — in
fact we thought the Germans had given it up. Fortunately
too I had not forgotten the old days of the chemistry room
at Ratcliffe College nor Brother Thompson and his ' stink
bottles/ so I knew at the first whiff it was chlorine gas and
time for this child to make tracks.

" But I was not yet out of the wood. Even as I was
congratulating myself on my good fortune, I saw both right
and left of where I stood the green wave of a second gas
attack rolling towards me like some huge spectre stretching
out its ghostly arms. As I saw it coming, my heart went
out to God in one fervent act of gratitude for His goodness
to me. As probably you know we all carry ' smoke helmets/
slung over our shoulders in a case, to be used against a gas
attack. That morning as I was leaving my dugout I threw
my helmet aside. I had a fairly long walk before me, the
helmet is a bit heavy on a hot day, and as I said, German
gas was most unlikely. So I made up my mind to leave it
behind. In view of what happened, it may appear
imagination now, but a voice seemed to whisper loudly in
my ear : ' Take your helmet with you ; don't leave without
it/1 I turned back and slung it over my shoulder. Surely
it was the warning voice of my guardian angel, for if I had
not done so, you would never have had this letter.

" I wonder can you picture my feelings at this moment ?
Here was death in its most awful form sweeping down towards
me ; thank God I had the one thing which could save me,
but with a carelessness for which I ought to be scourged,
I had never tried the helmet on and did not know if it were
in working order. In theory, with the helmet on I was
absolutely safe, but it was an anxious moment waiting for
the scorching test, and to make things more horrible, I was
absolutely alone. But I had the companionship of One

I.— On the anniversary of this escape he once more asserted: "Some
invisible, almost physical, force turned me back to get my helmet."

234 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S J.

Who sustained me in the hour of trial, and kneeling down
I took the Pyx from my pocket and received the Blessed
Eucharist as Viaticum. I had not a moment to spare, and
had my helmet just fixed when I was buried in a thick green
fog of poison gas. In a few moments my confidence returned
for the helmet worked perfectly and I found I was able to
breathe without any ill effects from the gas.

" By the time I got down to the dressing station the guns
had ceased fire, the gas blown away, and the sun was shining
in a cloudless sky. Already a stream of wounded was coming
in and I soon had my hands full, when an urgent message
reached me from the front trench. A poor fellow had been
desperately wounded, a bullet had cut him like a knife across
the stomach, with results you can best imagine. He was
told he had only a few minutes to live, and asked if they
could do anything for him. ' I have only one wish before
I die/ he answered, ' could you possibly get me Fr. Doyle ?
I'll go happy then.' It was hard work to reach him, as
parts of the communication trench were knee deep in water
and thick mud. Then I was misdirected and sent in the
wrong direction, but I kept on praying I might be in time,
and at last found the dying man still breathing and conscious.
The look of joy, which lit up his face when I knelt beside him,
was reward enough for the effort I had made. I gave him
Absolution and anointed him before he died, but occupied
as I was I did not notice that a third gas attack had begun.
Before I could get my helmet out and on, I had swallowed
a couple of mouthfuls, which did me no serious harm beyond
making me feel rather sick and weak.

"As I made my way slowly up the trench, feeling altogether
' a poor thing,' I stumbled across a young officer who had
been badly gassed. He had got his helmet on, but was
coughing and choking in a terrible way. ' For God's sake,'
he cried, ' help me to tear off this helmet — I can't breathe.
I'm dying.' I saw if I left him the end would not be far ;
so catching hold of him, I half carried, half dragged him up
the trench to the medical aid post. I shall never forget
that ten minutes, it seemed hours. I seemed to have lost
all my strength : struggling with him to prevent him killing
himself by tearing off his helmet made me forget almost

A GAS ATTACK 235

how to breathe through mine. I was almost stifled, though
safe from gas, while the perspiration simply poured from
my forehead. I could do nothing but pray for help and
set my teeth, for if I once let go, he was a dead man. Thank
God, we both at last got to the aid post, and I had the
happiness of seeing him in the evening out of danger, though
naturally still weak.

" Fortunately this last attack was short and light, so that
I was able to take off my helmet and after a cup of tea was
all right. The best proof I can give you of this, lies in the
fact that I have since put in three of the hardest days' work
of my life which I could not possibly have done had I been
really gassed, as its first effect is to leave one as helpless
as a child."

This last remark was made in order to relieve his father's
anxiety. But it was, to say the least, a meagre summary
of his heroic work and almost miraculous escape. A year
later he lifted the veil somewhat. " I have never told you,"
he then confessed, " the whole story of that memorable
April morning or the repetition of it the following day, or
how when I was lying on the stretcher going to ' peg out,' as
the doctor believed, God gave me back my strength and
energy in a way which was nothing short of a miracle, to
help many a poor fellow to die in peace and perhaps to open
the gates of heaven to not a few.

" I had come through the tferee attacks without ill results,
though having been unexpectedly caught by the last one,
as I was anointing a dying man and did not see the poisonous
fumes coming, I had swallowed some of the gas before I
could get my helmet on. It was nothing very serious, but
left me rather weak and washy. There was little time to
think of that, for wounded and dying were lying all along
the trenches, and I was the only priest on that section at
the time.

' The fumes had quite blown away, but a good deal of
the gas, being of a heavy nature, had sunk down to the
bottom of the trench and gathered under the duck-boards
or wooden flooring. It was impossible to do one's work
with the gas helmet on, and so as I knelt down to absolve
or anoint man after man for the greater part of that day,

236 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J

I had to inhale the chlorine fumes till I had nearly enough
gas in my poor inside to inflate a German sausage Jballoon.

" I did not then know that when a man is gassed his only
chance (and a poor one at that) is to lie perfectly still to
give the heart a chance of fighting its foe. In happy ignorance
of my real state, I covered mile after mile of those trenches
until at last in the evening, when the work was done, I was
able to rejoin my battalion in a village close to the Line.

" It ,was only then I began to realise that I felt ' rotten
bad ' as schoolboys say. I remember the doctor, who was
a great friend of mine, feeling my puke and shaking his
head as he put me lying in a corner of the shattered house,
and then he sat beside me for hours with a kindness I can
never forget. He told me afterwards he was sure I was a
' gone coon/ but at the moment I did not care much. Then
I fell asleep only to be rudely awakened at four next morning
by the crash of guns and the dreaded bugle call ' gas alarm,
gas alarm.' The Germans had launched a second attack,
fiercer than the first. It did not take long to make up my
mind what to do — who would hesitate at such a moment,
when the Reaper Death was busy ? — and before I reached
the trenches I had anointed a number of poor fellows who
had struggled back after being gassed and had fallen dying
by the roadside. '

' The harvest that day was a big one, for there had been
bloody fighting all along ttj£ Front. Many a man died
happy in the thought that the priest's hand had been raised
in absolution over his head and the Holy Oils' anointing
had given pardon to those senses which he had used to' offend
•the Almighty. It was a long, hard day, a day of heart
rending sights, with the consolation of good work done in
spite of the deadly fumes, and I reached my .billet wet and
muddy, pretty nearly worn out, but perfectly well, with not
the slightest ill effect from what I had gone through, nor
have I felt any since. Surely God has been good to me.
That was not the first of His many favours, nor has it been
the last "

This was written a year later. In his first letter, while
concealing the extreme risks he had incurred, he gave his
father a brief consoling account of his two days' work amid
the ghastly battlefield.

A GAS ATTACK 237

" On paper every man with a helmet was as safe as I
was from gas poisoning. But now it is evident many of the
men despised the ' old German gas,' some did not bother
putting on their helmets, others had torn theirs, and others
like myself had thrown them aside or lost them. From
early morning till late at night I worked my way from trench
to trench single handed the first day, with three regiments
to look after, and could get no help. Many men died before
I could reach them ; others seemed just to live till I anointed
them, and were gone before I passed back. There they
lay, scores of them (we lost 800, nearly all from gas) in the
bottom of the trench, in every conceivable posture of human
agony : the clothes torn off their bodies in a vain effort to
breathe ; while from end to end of that valley of death
came one low unceasing moan from the lips of brave men
fighting and struggling for life.

" I don't think you will blame me when I tell you that
more than once the words of Absolution stuck in my throat,
and the tears splashed down on the patient suffering faces
of my poor boys as I leant down to anoint them. One
young soldier seized my two hands and covered them with
kisses ; another looked up and said : ' Oh ! Father I can
die happy now, sure I'm not afraid of death or anything
else since I have seen you.' Don't you think, dear father,
that the little sacrifice made in coming out here has already
been more than repaid, and if you have suffered a little
anxiety on my account, you have at least the consolation
of knowing that I have, through God's goodness, been able
to comfort many a poor fellow and perhaps to open the gates.
of Heaven for them."

After this terrible experience Fr. Doyle was glad to have
a few days' rest at the rear. For the first time in a fortnight
he was able to remove his clothes and he slept for thirteen
continuous hours in a real bed. He had, as he himself said,
' nearly reached the end of his tether ' For his conduct on
the occasion he was mentioned in dispatches.1 On which
he remarks : "I hope that the angels have done their work

I. — His Colonel recommended him for the Military Cross but was told that
Fr. Doyle had not been long- enough at the Front. So he was presented with
the Parchment of Merit of the 4gth Brigade.

238 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

as well and that I shall get a little corner in their report
to Head Quarters above." Fortunately, there is no doubt
about the latter point ! Not angels only but human souls
speeded heavenwards bore tribute to the self-sacrificing zeal
of the soldier of Christ.

During the comparative lull which succeeded this attack
Fr. Doyle was kept busy by the men, " scraping their
kettles/' as they expressed it. "I wish mine were half as
clean as some of theirs," he adds. Thus on Sunday,
I4th May, between 600 and 700 men went to Holy Com
munion. Once more he eulogizes his little flock. " One
cannot help feeling proud of our Irish lads," he writes.
" Everyone loves them — the French girls, naturally that
goes without saying ; the shopkeepers love them for their
simplicity in paying about five times the real value of the
goods they buy. Monsieur le Cure would hug them each
and everyone if he could, for he has been simply raking in
the coin these days, many a one putting three and five franc
notes in the plate, to make up, J suppose, for the trouser
buttons of the knowing ones ; and surely our Blessed Lord
loves them best of all for their simple, unaffected piety
which brings crowds of them at all hours of the day to visit
Him in the Tabernacle. Need I add that the Padre himself
has a warm corner in his heart for his boys, as I think they
have for him, judging by their anxiety when the report
spread that I had got knocked out in the gas attack. They
are as proud as punch to have the chaplain with them in
the trenches. It is quite amusing to hear them point out
jmy dug-out to strangers as they go by : ' That's our priest/
with a special stress on the our." For which assuredly the
Fusiliers had good reason.

What did he himself think of it all ? The following little
description of another Crucifix will help to show us where
his thoughts lay.

" I paid a visit recently to another wonder of the war,
the Church of Vermelles. Little remains of it now, for the
town has been held in succession by the Germans, French,
and ourselves, and every yard of ground was lost and won
a dozen times. The church is just a heap of ruins : the roof
has been burnt, the tower shot away, while the statues,

A GAS ATTACK 239

Stations, etc., are smashed to dust, but hanging still on one
of the broken walls is a large crucifix absolutely untouched.
The figure is a beautiful one, a work of art, and the face
of our Lord has an expression of sadness such as I have
never seen before. The eyes are open, gazing as it were
upon the scene of desolation, and though the wall upon which
the crucifix hangs is riddled with bullet holes and shell
splinters, the image is untouched save for one round bullet
hole just through the heart. The whole thing may be only
chance, but it is a striking sight, and cannot fail to impress
one and bring home the fact that if God is scourging the
world as it well deserves, He is not indifferent to the sorrows
and sufferings of His children."

A few intimate letters written at this time give us a precious
glimpse of his inner life. We are thus enabled to see a little
of that inward soul-world, so calm and undisturbed, so
perfectly hidden beneath the multifarious activities and
cheerful vigour of a military chaplain. He felt that his
present life, so repellent to his natural self, was at once
the fulfilment and the test of all his previous aspirations
for the foreign mission and martyrdom. His experience
seemed to him a purifying preparation for some great task,
the consummation of all his striving and sacrifice. " Life
out here," he writes, " has had one strange effect on me.
I feel as if I had been crushed under some great weight,
an^ that the crushing had somehow got rid of much that
was bad in me and brought me closer to Jesus. If it should
be God's holy will to bring me safe out of this war, life will
be too short to thank Him for all the graces He has given
me here. I am already dreaming dreams of the big things
I shall try to do for Him, but I fancy He wants to crush me
still more before I get out of this. I read a passage recently
in the letters of Pere Liberman1 which is consoling. He
says that he found from long experience that God never
filled a soul with an ardent and lasting desire for anything,
e.g., love, holiness, etc., without in the end gratifying it.
Has He not in the lesser things acted thus with me ? You
know my desire for the foreign missions because I realized
that the privation and hardships of such a life, the separation

I.— P. Goepfert, Life of the Ven F. M. P. Liberman, Dublin, 1880.

240 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

from all naturally dear to me, would be an immense help
to holiness. And here I am a real missioner, if not in the
Congo, at least with many of the wants and sufferings and
even greater dangers than I should have found there. The
longing for martyrdom God has gratified times without
number, for I have had to go into what seemed certain death,
gladly making the offering of my poor life, but He did not
accept it, so that the ' daily martyrdom ' might be repeated.
How I thank Him for this keenest of all sufferings, the
prospect of death when life is bounding within one, since
it makes me a little more like the Saviour shrinking from
death in the Garden ! Even my anxiety to have more
time for prayer has been gratified, because while waiting
for one thing or another or going on my rounds, I have
many opportunities for a little talk with Him."

What he especially valued was the privilege of being a
living Tabernacle, of always carrying the Blessed Sacrament
around with him. This was to Fr. Doyle not only a constant
source of consolation but also enabled him to overcome his
natural loathing for the scenes of strife and slaughter around
him, and to manifest an amazingly imperturbable courage
which he was really far from feeling. " I have been living
in the front trenches for the last week," he says in another
letter, " in a sea of mud, drenched to the skin with rain
and mercilessly peppered with all sorts and conditions of
shells. Yet I realize that some strange purifying process
is going on in my soul, and that this life is doing much for
my sanctification This much I can say : I hunger and
thirst for holiness, and for humiliations and sufferings, which
are the short-cut to holiness ; though when these things
do come, I often pull a long face and try to avoid them.
Yet lately I have come to understand as never before that
it is only ' through many tribulations ' we can hope to enter
the Promised Land of sanctity. I think when this war is
over (about twenty years hence), I shall become a hermit !
I never felt so utterly sick of the world and worldlings. All
this bustle and movement has wearied my soul beyond
measure. I am longing for solitude, to be alone with Jesus,
for He seems to fill every want in my life. All the same
as the days go by I thank our Blessed Lord more and more

A GAS ATTACK 241

for the grace of getting out here. Not exactly because of
the consolation of helping so many poor fellows or because
of the merit the hard life must bring with it, but because
I feel this experience has influenced my whole future, which
I cannot further explain except by saying that God has
given me the grace of my life since I came.

" Then in addition there is the great privilege and joy
of carrying our dear Lord next my heart day and night.
Long ago when reading that Pius IX carried the Pyx around
his neck, I felt a foolish desire, as it seemed to me, for the
same privilege. Little did I think then that the God of
holiness would stoop so low as to make me His resting-place.
Why this favour alone would be worth going through twenty
wars for ! I feel ashamed at times that I do not profit
more by His nearness, but I know that He makes allowances
for weak inconstant nature, and that even when I do not
directly think of Him, He is silently working in my soul.
Do you not think that Jesus must have done very much
for Mary during the nine months she bore Him within her ?
I feel that He will do much, very much, for me too whilst
I carry Him about with me."

Writing on yth May he lets an intimate correspondent
see clearly the source of all his strength and courage.
" Sometimes God seems to leave me to my weakness and
I tremble with fear," he confesses. "At other times I have
so much trust and confidence in His loving protection that
I could almost sit down on a bursting shell feeling I could
come to no harm. You would laugh, or perhaps cry, if you
saw me at this moment sitting on a pile of bricks and rubbish.
Shells are bursting some little distance away on three sides
and occasionally a piece comes down with an unpleasantly
close thud. But what does it matter ? Jesus is resting on
my heart, and whenever I like I can fold my arms over Him
and press Him to that heart which, as He knows, beats
with love of Him."1 With what wonderful literalness does
this attitude reproduce the message of our Lord Himself :
" I say to you, My friends, Be not afraid of them who kill

I. — He is alluding to the Blessed Sacrament which he was carrying. It was only
two days after his superhuman work and miraculous recovery that he wrote in his
diary : "Jesus said to me, You must make your life a martyrdom of prayer." Cited
above, p. 114.

242 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

the body and after that have no more that they can
do.<; . . . Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings
and not one of them is forgotten before God ? Yea, the
very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not,
therefore ; you are of more value than many sparrows."
(5. Luke 12. 4.) To which we may surely add the next
verse : " Whosoever shall confess Me before men, him shall
the Son of man also confess before the angels of God." A
guarantee that not one of the unrecorded deeds of Christian
heroism ' is forgotten before God,' and that Fr. Doyle,
flitting like an angel of mercy over the gas-stricken field
of Loos, got what he calls his little corner in the report to
Head Quarters above.

(6.) ANOTHER SPELL AT THE FRONT.

On 2nd June, Fr. Doyle secured a much needed leave
of absence. " I do not think," he says, " I ever looked
forward to a holiday with such keenness in my life before."
The nerve-racking, ear-splitting, ceaseless warfare ; the
constant stream of soldiers to be helped, shriven, anointed
or buried ; the physical discomforts, the rats and the vermin,
the intense cold and knee-deep slush succeeded now by the
aching glare of the chalk trenches ; the poison-gas working
on his body, and the nauseating scenes of bloodshed working
on his mind ; all this, quite apart from his self-imposed
martyrdom of prayer and penance, had told severely on
Fr. Doyle, though outwardly he was as joyous and gay as
ever. His all too short holiday of ten days was soon over,
however ; and once more he was back in the trenches.

He was hardly back when a new adventure befel him.
" It seems right," he tells his Father, " that I should not
keep from you this last mark of the good God's wonderful
protection which has been so manifest during the past four
months."

" I was standing in a trench, quite a long distance from
the firing line, a spot almost as safe as Dalkey itself, talking
to some of my men, when we heard in the distance the scream

ANOTHER SPELL AT THE FRONT 243

of a shell. It was evidently one of those random shots,
which Brother Fritz sends along from time to time, as no
other came after it. We very soon became painfully aware
that our visitor was heading for us, and that if he did not
explode in front of our trench, his career would certainly
come to an end close behind us. I did not feel uneasy,
for I knew we were practically safe from flying fragments
which would pass over our heads, but none of us had
calculated that this gentleman had made up his mind to
drop into the trench itself, a couple of paces from where
I stood.

" What really took place in the next ten seconds I cannot
say. I was conscious of a terrific explosion and the thud
of falling stones and debris. I thought the drums of my
ears were split by the crash, and I believe I was knocked
down by the concussion, but when I jumped to my feet
I found that the two men who had been standing at my left
hand, the side the shell fell, were stretched on the ground
dead, though I think I had time to give them absolution
and anoint them. The poor fellow on my right was lying
badly wounded in the head ; but I myself, though a bit
stunned and dazed by the suddenness of the whole thing,
was absolutely untouched, though covered with dirt and
blood.

" My escape was nothing short of a miracle, for a moment
before I was standing on the very spot the shell fell and had
just moved away a couple of paces. I did not think it was
possible for one to be so near a high explosive and not be
killed, and even now I cannot account for my marvellous
escape. In saying this I am not quite truthful, for I have
not a doubt where the saving protection came from. I had
made up my mind to consecrate some small hosts at my
Mass the following morning and put them in my Pyx as
usual, but as I walked through the little village on my way
to the trenches, the thought came to me that with so much
danger about, it would be well to have our Blessed Lord's
company and protection. I went into the church, opened
the Tabernacle, and with the Sacred Host resting on my
heart set out confidently to face whatever lay before me;
little did I think I was to be so near death or how much

244 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

depended on that simple action. That is the explanation
of the whole affair; I trusted Him and I believe He just
allowed this to happen on the very first day I got back to
make me trust Him all the more and have greater confidence
in His loving protection."1

Even the week's rest in billets, though a change from life
in the trenches, meant no cessation of work or risk. It was
a busy time for the chaplain, as the men availed of the
opportunity for Confession and Holy Communion. Even
here, well behind the firing line, danger was not absent,
for the German long range guns often sent unwelcome visitors.
" One shell hit this house," he complained, " came slick
through the brick wall into my poor bedroom of all places,
very shabby I call it, missed my bed by just an inch, took
a dive through the floor into the room below, and having
amused itself with the furniture, coolly walked out through
the opposite wall without condescending to burst, in indig
nation, I suppose, because I was not there. No one was
hurt and not much harm done. I have put the head of my
bed in the hole in the wall, for it is a point of honour among
shells not to come twice through the same spot, and in
consequence I sleep securely." " With all these prayers
going on," he added to reassure those at home, " a fellow
has no chance of getting hit ; it's not fair, I think ! "

At any rate, it was not Fr. Doyle's fault that he was not
hit, for when there was question of ministering to his men,
he was absolutely heedless of danger. Further proof of this
is unnecessary, but one or two more instances occurring
at this time (July, 1916) may be recorded. He wanted to
go quickly to a certain village which his men were holding.
The journey by ' the underground/ otherwise ' trench street,'
would take a couple of hours, whereas a quarter of an hour's
cycle ride over the high road would bring him to the village.

I. — In the first edition I quoted this extract from Fr. Doyle's letter of 28th June :
''All last week there was fearful slaughter in our trenches. In fact I am quite worn
out with carrying off the dead and burying them. To save time and trouble I made
a big grave behind my dug-out and just pitched in the dead bodies ; one gets very
callous, I fear, during war." I am afraid I took too literally this elaborate joke so
typical of Fr. Doyle. The next sentence, overlooked by me, gives the key. " I was
much helped in this by a lady whom you know well, as it was her tins of deadly
explosives which laid the enemy low ; I have only to say Heating's once to make
the foe flee."

ANOTHER SPELL AT THE FRONT 245

The road, however, was in full view of the German trenches
which were quite near, and no one ever ventured along it
in daylight. Fr. Doyle was the exception. He cycled the
whole way without one bullet being fired. Moreover he had
to slacken speed several times in order to avoid the shell
holes with which the road was pitted, and he had to dismount
once to pick up his bicycle pump which had been jerked
off. " Judging by some remarks which have reached me
since," he concludes, " people cannot make up their minds
whether I am a hero or a fool — I vote for the second. But
then they cannot understand what the salvation of even
one soul means to a priest. So I just laugh and go my way,
happy in the thought that I was in time." This diversity
of judgement is just as applicable to Fr. Doyle's life as a
whole. Was he a hero or a fool ? That is because we forget
the possibility of his being both.1

" My second adventure, if I may so style it, (says Fr. Doyle)
was of a different kind. Preparations had been made for
the blowing up of a gigantic mine sunk under the German
trenches, while at the same time our men were to make a
raid or night attack on the enemy. The hour fixed was
eleven o'clock, so shortly after ten I made my way up to the
firing line, where the attacking party were waiting. They
were grouped in two bodies, one on either side of the mine,
waiting for the explosion to rush over the parapet and seize
the newly formed mine-crater.

"As I came along the trench I could hear the men whisper,
' Here's the priest/ while the faces which a moment before
had been marked with the awful strain of the waiting lit
up with pleasure. As I gave the absolution and the blessing
of God on their work, I could not help thinking how many
a poor fellow would soon be stretched lifeless a few paces
from where he stood ; and though I ought to be hardened
by this time, I found it difficult to choke down the sadness
which filled my heart. ' God bless you, Father, we're ready
now,' was reward enough for facing the danger, since every
man realized that each moment was full of dreadful
possibilities.

i.— "We are fools for Christ's sake," says S. Paul (I. Cor. 4. 10), "but you are
wise in Christ." Surely there is room for both types of goodness.

246 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

" It was well known that the Germans were counter
mining, and if they got wind of our intention would certainly
try and explode their mine before ours. It was uncanny
walking along, knowing that at any moment you might
find yourself sailing skywards, wafted by the gentle breath
of four or five tons of explosive. Fortunately nothing
happened, but the moments were running out, so I hurried
down the communication trench to the dressing station in
a dug-out about a hundred yards away, where I intended
waiting for the wounded to be brought in.

" On the stroke of eleven I climbed up the parapet out
of the trench, and as I did there was a mighty roar in the
bowels of the earth, the ground trembled and rocked and
quivered, and then a huge column of clay and stones was
shot hundreds of feet in the air. As the earth opened dense
clouds of smoke and flames burst out, an awful and never
to be forgotten sight. God help the poor fellows, even
though they be our enemies, who were caught in that inferno
and buried alive or blown to bits.

" For a second there was a lull, and then it seemed as
if hell were let loose. Our artillery in the rear were standing
ready, waiting for the signal ; the moment the roar of the
explosion was heard every gun opened fire with a deafening
crash. Already our men were over the parapet with a yell
which must have terrified the enemy, up the side of the
crater, and were digging themselves in for their lives. Under
cover of our guns the raiding party had raced for the enemy's
trench, fought their way in and out again, as our object
was not to gain ground."

At this stage, the German guns having come into action,
Fr. Doyle retired to the dug-out and was soon busy with the
wounded and dying. One of these was a slightly wounded
German prisoner ; he was only a young lad and his teeth
chattered with fear. With great difficulty Fr. Doyle, who
knew no German, calmed the poor fellow who turned out
to be a Bavarian Catholic. It was by no means the only
occasion on which this true minister of Christ practised
that brotherhood and love of which war seems to be the
cruel negation. More than once too he preached (in rather
strong terms) to his men on their obligation to respect the
lives of prisoners.

ANOTHER SPELL AT THE FRONT 247

Still another adventure. "August I5th has always been
a day of many graces for me," writes Fr. Doyle. "It is
the anniversary of my consecration to Mary and of my
vows in the Society ; it was very nearly making me surpass
our Lady herself by sending me higher up than she ever
got in her life." The men were out of the trenches, staying
in the village of Mazingarbe. On the afternoon of I5th
August, 1916, most of the men were engaged in athletic
sports in a field outside when the Germans began shelling
the town. Needless to say, Fr. Doyle at once started for
the scene of danger.

" Knowing there were a good number of my boys about
(he writes) I hurried back as quickly as I could, and made
my way up the long, narrow street. The shells were all
coming in one direction, across the road, not down it, so
that by keeping close to the houses on the shady side there
was little danger, though occasional thrills of excitement
enough to satisfy Don Quixote himself. I reached the village
cross-roads in time to lift up the poor sentry who had been
badly hit, and with the help of a couple of men carried him
to the side of the road. He was unconscious, but I gave him
absolution and was half way through the anointing when
with a scream and a roar which made our hearts jump a shell
whizzed over our heads and crashed into the wall directly
opposite on the other side of the street, covering us with
brick dust and dirt. Bits of shrapnel came thud, thud, on
the ground and wall around us, but neither I nor the men
were touched.

' Begorra, Father, that was a near one, anyhow/ said
one of them, as he brushed the dust off his tunic, and started
to fill his pipe. ' It was well we had your Reverence with
us when Jerry (a nickname for German) sent that one across/
' You must not thank me, boys/ I said, ' don't you know
it is our Lady's feast, and Mary had her mantle spread over
us to save us from all harm ? ' ' True for you, Father',
came the answer. But I could see by their faces that they
were by no means convinced that I had not worked the
miracle.

" Though it was the I5th of August I was taking no risks,
especially with this reputation to maintain ! So, the poor

248 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

boy being dead, I bundled the rest of them down a cellar
out of harm's way, and started off again. Heavy as the
shelling was, little damage was done thanks to the fact
that the sports had emptied the town. One man was beyond
my aid, a few slightly wounded, and that was all. As I
came round the corner of the Church I met four of my boys
calmly strolling along in the middle of the street as if they
were walking on Kingstown pier. I won't record what I
said, but my words helped by the opportune arrival of an
unpleasantly near H.E. (high explosive) had the desired
effect, and we all took cover in the church. It was only
then I realised my mistake, for it soon became evident the
Germans were firing at the church itself. One after another
the shells came in rapid succession, first on one side then
on the other, dropping in front and behind the building,
which was a target with its tall, white tower. It was mad
ness to go out, and I do not think the men, some score of
them, knew of their danger, nor did I tell them, but ' man
of little faith,' as I was, I cast anxious eyes at the roof and
wished it were stronger. All's well that ends well, they
say. Not a shot hit the church, though the houses and road
got it hot. Our fiery ordeal ended at last, safely and happily
for all of us. And August I5th, 1916, went down on my
list as another day of special grace and favour at Mary's
hands."

Quite apart from these special escapes, Fr. Doyle's ordinary
days were filled with thrilling dangers and exhausting toil.
" I often congratulate myself," he says, " on my good fortune
in being appointed to the Irish Brigade, more especially
as the last vacancy fell to me. The vast majority of the
chaplains at the Front seldom see anything more dangerous
than the shell of an egg of doubtful age. They are doing
splendid work along the lines of communication, in the
hospitals, or at the base. Even those who are attached
to non-Catholic Divisions have little time to get to the
trenches, their men are so scattered ; but we with the Irish
Regiments live in the thick of it. We share the hardships
and dangers with our men, and if we have less polish on our
boots and belts than other spruce padres, let us hope we
have something more to our bank account in a better
world."

ANOTHER SPELL AT THE FRONT 249

Almost before daybreak Fr. Doyle was up and had the
happiness of offering the Holy Sacrifice. In August, 1916,
he was able to fit up a room in a deserted house and here
from time to time he was able to celebrate Mass for the
men, " a privilege which the poor fellows appreciate." In
one corner were the cellar steps down which, when occasion
required, priest and congregation vanished with marvellous
celerity. Once a shell came through the wall and fell on
the floor without bursting, covering the little altar with
bricks and plaster. But when in the trenches he celebrated
in his dug-out. The morning was spent in visits to five
dressing stations in various parts of the trenches, saying
some of his Office, Confessions or chats with the men. " Quite
often," he says, " an officer will drop in for a friendly con
troversial talk, resulting, thank God, in much good. There
is no doubt that the faith and sincere piety of our men have
made an immense impression on non-Catholics, and have
made them anxious to know more about the true Church."
" In the afternoon," he continues, " I make a tour of the
front line trenches. To be candid, it is part of my work
which I do not like. We chaplains are not bound to go
into the firing line ; in fact are not supposed to do so, but
the officers welcome us warmly, as a chat and a cheery word
bucks the men up so much. It is not that the danger is
very great ; in fact, I think it is much less than in other
parts of the trenches, because the track being built in a
zigzag, you are perfectly safe in a ' bay ' owing to the walls
of clay on either side, unless a shell falls on the very spot
where you are standing. But it is the uncanny feeling,
which comes over one, knowing that the enemy in some
parts are only thirty yards away, which makes the trip
unpleasant. I have often come to a ' bay ' blown in shortly
before by a shell from a mortar, a little gentleman weighing
200 Ibs. ; you can see him coming in the air, and when you
do, well you slip into the next ' bay ' and try to feel as small
as you can. I have had to crawl past a gap in the trench,
but I can honestly say I have never had anything approaching
a near shave. The Lord does not forget His goats when
He is minding His sheep ! "

Night did not mean rest for Fr. Doyle, for it was then

250 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

that he usually conducted burials. Moreover as most of
the ordinary fighting was done at night it was then that he
was most liable to ' sick calls/ He might perhaps have
just turned in at 2 a.m., when word would come that one
of his men in a distant part of the trench had his leg shot
off. His ' home ' itself was a hole dug in the side of the
trench, his ' bed ' was a couple of planks raised off the
ground. " We have rats and fleas by the million," he writes,
" innumerable flies which eat the jam off your bread before
you can get it into your mouth, smells wondrous and varied,
not to speak of other unmentionable things."

Amid all these hardships he was consoled by the thought
of how much his presence and ministrations meant to the
poor fellows around him. " Though the life at times is
rough and hard enough (at least the floor feels so at night)
there are many consolations for a priest, not the least of
which is the number of converts, both officers and men
coming into the Church. Many of them have never been
in contact with Catholics before, knew nothing about the
grandeur and beauty of our religion, and above all have
been immensely impressed by what the Catholic priests,
^alone of all the chaplains at the Front, are able to do for
their men, both living and dying. It is an admitted fact,
that the Irish Catholic soldier is the bravest and best man
in a fight, but few know that he draws that courage from
the strong Faith with which he is filled and the help which
comes from the exercise of his religion."

He was naturally solicitous for his men, especially as the
months dragged on with no intermission save a few brief
days spent in reserve amid the ruins of a shattered village
behind the lines. It was customary for a division which
had been in the line for three months to get back to the
base for a month's rest. The other divisions round the
Sixteenth went back and returned, but the Irishmen were
now six months without relief. " I suppose," writes
Fr. Doyle, "it is a compliment to the fighting qualities of
the 1 6th Division, for we are holding the most critical sector
of the line ; but it is a compliment all of us would willingly
forego." "As a matter of fact," he adds, " the very night
we handed over a certain portion of the Front to another

ANOTHER SPELL AT THE FRONT 251

regiment, the Germans — how did they know of the
change ? — came over and captured the trenches. So we
had to go back again." Still the unfortunate Irishmen
could not be kept in the trenches for ever. And on 25th
August came the welcome order to move to the rear. Sudden
and secret as the order was, the Germans knew all about
it and put up a board with the message, " Good-bye, i6th
Division, we shall give it hot to the English when they come."
The Irish did their work well in Loos ; in the six months
they did not lose a trench or a yard of ground ; and out
of the Division of 20,000 over 15,000 men (including, of
course, many sick and slightly wounded) had passed through
the doctor's hands.

Back through Amiens to the rear away from the sounds
and sights of war. These long marches, made more trying
by official incompetence, were very exhausting As usual
Fr. Doyle was where his Master would have been, following
the Ignatian ideal of mecum laborare in the Kingdom of
Christ. " The officers, from captain up," he writes, " have
horses ; but I prefer to shoulder my pack and foot it with
my boys, for I know they like it, and besides I don't see
why I should not share a little of their hardship."
Incidentally we learn that he had been carrying a young
lad's equipment in addition to his own, all day too without
dinner or supper. It is clear that trie saints are incorrigibly
' imprudent.'

(7.) THE SOMME.

The men of the i6th Division were under the impression
that, after having done so much more than their share,
they were making their way steadily towards the place
appointed for their well deserved rest. But as a matter
of fact many of these brave fellows were never to enjoy
that promised time of quiet on this earth, for their road
was leading them to the battle field of the Somme. By
way of rest they were to be asked to achieve what English
regiments had failed to do. They did it ; Guillemont and
Ginchy were taken ; and many an Irish hearth is the poorer
and lonelier " But 'twas a famous victory."

252 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

The opening sentences of Fr. Doyle's next letter to his
father (nth September, 1916) sufficiently indicate the terrible
nature of the ordeal which we are about to recount.

" I have been through the most terrible experience of my
whole life, in comparison with which all that I have witnessed
or suffered since my arrival in France seems of little con
sequence ; a time of such awful horror that I believe if the
good God had not helped me powerfully by His grace I
could never have endured it. To sum up all in one word,
for the past week I have been living literally in hell, amid
sights and scenes and dangers enough to test the courage
of the bravest ; but through it all my confidence and trust
in our Blessed Lord's protection never wavered, for I felt
that somehow, even if it needed a miracle, He would bring
me safe through the furnace of tribulation. I was hit three
times, on the last occasion by a piece of shell big enough to
have taken off half my leg, but wonderful to relate I did
not receive a wound or scratch — there is some advantage,
you see, in having a good thick skin ! As you can imagine,
I am pretty well worn out and exhausted, rather shaken
by the terrific strain of those days and nights without any
real sleep or repose, with nerves tingling, ever on the jump,
like the rest of us ; but it is all over now ; we are well behind
the firing line on our way at last for a good long rest, which
report says will be enjoyed close to the sea."

His previous letter had been written from Bray,1 near
Albert, on the river Somme, where there was a huge con
centration of French and British forces. Each morning
Fr. Doyle said Mass in the open and gave Holy Communion
to hundreds of the men. " I wish you could have seen
them," he writes, " kneeling there before the whole camp,
recollected and prayerful — a grand profession surely of the
faith that is in them. More than one non-Catholic was
touched by it ; and it made many a one, I am sure, turn to
God in the hour of need." On the evening of Sunday,
3rd September, just as they were sitting down to dinner,
spread on a pile of empty shell boxes, urgent orders reached
the 1 6th Division to march in ten minutes. ' There was
only time," says Fr. Doyle, " to grab a slice of bread and hack

I. — See map p. 223.

THE SOMME 255

off a piece of meat before rushing to get one's kit." " As
luck would have it," he adds, " I had had nothing to eat
since the morning and was famished, but there was nothing
for it but to tighten one's belt and look happy." There
are occasions when even the world can appreciate Jesuit
obedience ! After a couple of hours' tramp a halt was
called and an order came to stock all impedimenta — kits,
packs, blankets, etc., — by the side of the road. Fr. Doyle,
it is almost needless to say, held on to his Mass things, though
to his great sorrow for five days he was unable to offer the
Holy Sacrifice — " the biggest privation of the whole
campaign."

The night was spent without covering or blankets, sitting
on the ground. Next morning there was a short march
over the brow of a hill and down into a valley still nearer
to the front line. It was a great change from the trench
life of the past six months, since at Loos for days one never
saw a soul overground and all guns were carefully hidden
But here there were scores and hundreds of cannon of all
shapes and sizes, standing out boldly in the fields and
" roaring as if they had swallowed a dish of uncooked shells."
Amid this infernal din and never-ending roar and crash of
bursting shells, men and horses moved about as if there
were no war. In this valley of death Fr. Doyle's men had
their first casualties and he himself had a very narrow escape
which is best described in his own words.

" I was standing about 100 yards away watching a party
of my men crossing the valley, when I saw the earth under
their feet open and the twenty men disappear in a cloud
of smoke, while a column of stones and clay was shot a couple
of hundred feet into the air. A big German shell by the
merest chance had landed in the middle of the party. I
rushed down the slope, getting a most unmerciful ' whack '
between the shoulders, probably from a falling stone, as it
did not wound me, but it was no time to think of one's safety.
I gave them all a General Absolution, scraped the clay from
the faces of a couple of buried men who were not wounded,
and then anointed as many of the poor lads as I could reach.
Two of them had no faces to anoint and others were ten
feet under the clay, but a few were living still. By this

254 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

time half a dozen volunteers had run up and were digging
the buried men out. War may be horrible, but it certainly
brings out the best side of a man's character ; over and
over again I have seen men risking their lives to help or
save a comrade, and these brave fellows knew the risk they
were taking, for when a German shell falls in a certain place,
you clear as quickly as you can since several more are pretty
certain to land close. It was a case of duty for me, but
real courage for them. We dug like demons for our lads'
lives and our own, to tell the truth, for every few minutes
another ' iron pill ' from a Krupp gun would come tearing
down the valley, making our very hearts leap into our mouths.
More than once we were well sprinkled with clay and stones,
but the cup of cold water promise was well kept, and not
one of the party received a scratch. We got three buried
men out alive, not much the worse for their trying experience,
but so thoroughly had the shell done its work that there
was not a single wounded man in the rest of the party ; all
had gone to a better land. As I walked back I nearly shared
the fate of my boys, but somehow escaped again, and pulled
out two more lads who were only buried up to the waist
and uninjured. Meanwhile the regiment had been ordered
back to a safer position on the hill, and we were able to
breathe once more."

The men's resting place that night consisted of some open
shell holes. " To make matters worse," writes Fr. Doyle
" we were posted fifteen yards in front of two batteries of
field guns, while on our right a little further off were half
a dozen huge sixty-pounders ; not once during the whole
night did these guns cease firing." This proximity not only
contributed an ear-splitting din but added considerably to
the men's risk owing to the occasional premature bursting
of the shells. In spite of these discomforts and the torrential
downpour of rain, the men slept out of sheer weariness.
" I could not help thinking," says Fr. Doyle, " of Him who
often had not where to lay His head, and it helped me to
resemble Him a little."

At last came the expected order to advance at once and
hold the front line, the part assigned being Leuze Wood,
the scene of much desperate fighting. Fr. Doyle may be
left to describe the journey and the scene.

THE SOMME 255

" The first part of our journey lay through a narrow trench,
the floor of which consisted of deep thick mud, and the bodies
of dead men trodden under foot. It was horrible beyond
description, but there was no help for it, and on the half-
rotten corpses of our own brave men we marched in silence,
everyone busy with his own thoughts. I shall spare you
gruesome details, but you can picture one's sensations as
one felt the ground yield under one's foot, and one sank
down through the body of some poor fellow.

" Half an hour of this brought us out on the open into
the middle of the battlefield of some days previous. The
wounded, at least I hope so, had all been removed, but the
dead lay there stiff and stark, with open staring eyes, just
as they had fallen. Good God, such a sight ! I had tried
to prepare myself for this, but all I had read or pictured
gave me little idea of the reality. Some lay as if they were
sleeping quietly, others had died in agony, or had had the
life crushed out of them by mortal fear, while the whole
ground, every foot of it, was littered with heads or limbaj
or pieces of torn human bodies. In the bottom of one hole
lay a British and a German soldier, locked in a deadly
embrace, neither had any weapon, but they had fought on
to the bitter end. Another couple seemed to have realised
that the horrible struggle was none of their making, and
that they were both children of the same God ; they had
died hand-in-hand praying for and forgiving one another.
A third face caught my eye, a tall, strikingly handsome
young German, not more, I should say, than eighteen. He
lay there calm and peaceful, with a smile of happiness on
his face, as if he had had a glimpse of Heaven before he died.
Ah, if only his poor mother could have seen her boy it would
have soothed the pain of her broken heart.

" We pushed on rapidly through that charnel house, for
the stench was fearful, till we stumbled across a sunken
road. Here the retreating Germans had evidently made a
last desperate stand, but had been caught by our artillery
fire. The dead lay in piles, the blue grey uniforms broken
by many a khaki-clad body. I saw the ruins of what was
evidently the dressing station, judging by the number of
bandaged men about ; but a shell had found them out even
here and swept them all into the net of death.

256 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

"A halt for a few minutes gave me the opportunity I was
waiting for. I hurried along from group to group, and as
I did the men fell on their knees to receive absolution. A
few words to give them courage, for no man knew if he would
return alive. A ' God bless and protect you, boys,' and I
passed on to the next company. As I did, a soldier stepped
out of the ranks, caught me by the hand, and said : ' I am
not a Catholic, sir, but I want to thank you for that beautiful
prayer.' The regiments moved on to the wood, while the
doctor and I took up our positions in the dressing station
to wait for the wounded. This was a dug-out on the hill
facing Leuze Wood, and had been in German occupation
the previous afternoon.

" To give you an idea of my position. From where I
stood the ground sloped down steeply into a narrow valley,
while on the opposite hill lay the wood, half of which the
Fusiliers were holding, the Germans occupying the rest ;
the distance across being so short I could easily follow the
movements of our men without a glass.

" Fighting was going on all round, so that I was kept
busy, but all the time my thoughts and my heart were with
my poor boys in the wood opposite. They had reached it
safely, but the Germans somehow had worked round the
sides and temporarily cut them off. No food or water
could be sent up, while ten slightly wounded men who tried
to come back were shot down, one after another. To make
matters worse, our own artillery began to shell them, inflicting
heavy losses, and though repeated messages were sent back,
continued doing so for a long time. It appears the guns
had fired so much that they were becoming worn out, making
the shells fall 300 yards short

" Under these circumstances it would be madness to try
and reach the wood, but my heart bled for the wounded
and dying lying there alone. When dusk came I made up
my mind to try and creep through the valley, more especially
as the fire had slackened very much, but once again the
Providence of God watched over me. As I was setting out
I met a sergeant who argued the point with me. ' You
can do little good, Father/ he said, ' down there in the wood,
and will only run a great risk. Wait till night comes and

THE SOMME 257

then we shall be able to bring all the wounded up here. Don't
forget that, though we have plenty of officers and to spare,
we have only one priest to look after us.' The poor fellow
was so much in earnest I decided to wait a little at least.
It was well I did so, for shortly afterwards the Germans
opened a terrific bombardment and launched a counter
attack on the wood. Some of the Cornwalls, who were
holding a corner of the wood, broke and ran, jumping right
on top of the Fusiliers. Brave Paddy from the Green Isle
stood his ground .... and drove the Germans back with
cold steel.

" Meanwhile we on the opposite hill were having a most
unpleasant time. A wounded man had reported that the
enemy had captured the wood. Communication was broken
and Headquarters had no information of what was going
on. At that moment an orderly dashed in with the startling
news that the Germans were in the valley, and actually
climbing our hill. Jerusalem ! We non-combatants might
easily escape to the rear, but who would protect the
wounded ? They could not be abandoned. If it were day
light the Red Cross would give us protection, but in the
darkness of the night the enemy would not think twice
about flinging a dozen bombs down the steps of the dug-out.
I looked round at the bloodstained walls and shivered. A
nice coward, am I not ? Thank God, the situation was not
quite so bad as reported ; our men got the upper hand,
and drove back the attack, but that half-hour of suspense
will live long in my memory."

Unfortunately, Fr. Doyle gives no further details of his
experiences except a brief account of Saturday, Qth
September. In a subsequent letter (nth October) he des
cribed a Mass for the Dead which he celebrated at the Somme,
apparently on this Saturday morning. " By cutting a piece
out of the side of the trench," he says, " I was just able to
stand in front of my tiny altar, a biscuit box supported on
two German bayonets. God's angels, no doubt, were
hovering overhead, but so were the shells, hundreds of them,
and I was a little afraid that when the earth shook with the
crash of the guns, the chalice might be overturned. Round
about me on every side was the biggest congregation I ever

258 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

had : behind the altar, on either side, and in front, row
after row, sometimes crowding one upon the other, but all
quiet and silent, as if they were straining their ears to catch
every syllable of that tremendous act of Sacrifice — but every
man was dead ! Some had lain there for a week and were
foul and horrible to look at, with faces black and green.
Others had only just fallen, and seemed rather sleeping
than dead, but there they lay, for none had time to bury
them, brave fellows, every one, friend and foe alike, while
I held in my unworthy hands the God of Battles, their Creator
and their Judge, and prayed Him to give rest to their souls.
Surely that Mass for the Dead, in the midst of, and surrounded
by the dead, was an experience not easily to be forgotten."

It was arranged that on the gth September the i6th
Division should storm Ginchy, a strong village against which
previous English attacks had failed. The 8th Fusiliers,
having lost so many officers, were held in reserve. From
seven in the morning till five in the evening the guns played
on Ginchy. " Shortly before five," writes Fr. Doyle, " I
went up to the hill in front of the town, and was just in time
to see our men leap from their trenches and dart up the
slope, only to be met by a storm of bullets from concealed
machine guns. It was my first real view of a battle at close
quarters, an experience not easily forgotten. Almost simul
taneously all our guns, big and little, opened a terrific barrage
behind the village, to prevent the enemy bringing up rein
forcements, and in half a minute the scene was hidden by
the smoke of thousands of bursting shells, British and
German. The wild rush of our Irish lads swept the Germans
away like chaff. The first line went clean through the village
and out the other side, and were it not for the officers, acting
under orders, would certainly be in Berlin by this time !
Meanwhile the supports had cleared the cellars and dug
outs of their defenders ; the town was ours and all was
well. At the same time a feeling of uneasiness was about.
Rumour said some other part of the line had failed to advance,
the Germans were breaking through, etc. One thing was
certain, the guns had not ceased. Something was not
going well."

About nine o'clock the Fusiliers were getting ready to be

THE SOMME 259

relieved by another regiment. But one further experience
was to be theirs. There came an urgent order to hurry
up to the Front. "To my dying day," says Fr. Doyle,
" I shall never forget that half -hour, as we pushed across
the open, our only light the flash of bursting shells, tripping
over barbed wire, stumbling and walking on the dead,
expecting every moment to be blown into Eternity. We
were halted in a trench at the rear of the village, and there
till four in the morning we lay on the ground listening to the
roar of the guns and the scream of the shells flying overhead,
not knowing if the next moment might not be our last.
Fortunately, we were not called upon to attack, and our
casualties were very slight. But probably because the
terrible strain of the past week was beginning to tell, or the
Lord wished to give me a little merit by suffering more,
the agony and fear and suspense of those six hours seemed
to surpass the whole of the seven days.

" We were relieved on Sunday morning, loth, at four
o'clock, and crawled back (I can use no other word) to the
camp in the rear. My feet, perhaps, are the most painful
of all, as we were not allowed to remove our boots even at
night. But otherwise I am really well, thank God, and a
few days' good rest will make me better than ever. At
present we march one day and rest the next, but I do not
know where."

On 23rd September Fr. Doyle writes to say that, by rail
and motor lorries and especially by " shank's mare," they
had travelled into Normandy — but not for their month's
rest so long overdue. Within a week they were over the
frontier again into Belgium, thankful at least to have a
quieter section of the line than that at Loos, a place where
in fact there seemed to be a sort of mutual understanding
to keep quiet. Here Fr. Doyle went through the ordinary
chaplain's work until early in November when he was able
to come home on a week's leave of absence.

260 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

(8.) CHRISTMAS AT THE FRONT.

All through this terrible time Fr. Doyle's inner life was
the same continuous persevering effort at self -conquest,
immolation and union. Some of his thoughts and resolutions
he, luckily for us, scribbled down in his little notebook. On
loth August he records that he is constantly irritated by the
ceaseless annoyances and inconveniences of his life. So he
resolved — thus carrying out the advice he had often given
to others — : " (i) to take every single detail of my life as
done by Him ; (2) lovingly to accept it all in the spirit of
immolation that my will and wishes may be annihilated ;
(3) never to complain or grumble even to myself ; (4) to
try and let everyone do with me as he pleases, looking on
myself as a slave to be trampled on." " If I kept these
rules," he added, " I should never be annoyed or upset
about anything and should never lose my peace of soul."
Less than a week after his fearful experience at the Somme—
surely sufficient to justify a long respite from strain and
suffering — we find this entry (i5th September) : "Again I
felt most strongly urged to make the 50,000 aspirations
the penance of my life, and to force myself, no matter at
what cost, to get through them daily." A month later he
made another effort to add to the inevitable hardships of
his life by renewing his resolution to bear ' little sufferings '
without relief. And on his return from his short much-
needed visit home, he reproached himself thus : ' While
away on leave I deliberately resisted the urging of the Holy
Spirit to do many hard things, e.g. to rise early and get all
the Masses I could, make the Holy Hour, etc. I did none
of these things and in consequence was very unhappy. I
never have peace unless I am going against myself. I notice
a continual interior urging to resume the marking of ' hard
things,' because when I give up doing so the acts almost
cease." On I3th December he reverts to this thought in
the following record : " Since I became chaplain I have
grown very lazy and unmortified, the cause of much
unhappiness and remorse to me. My excuse is that my

Fr. William Doyle, S.J., as Military Chaplain.

CHRISTMAS AT THE FRONT 261

present life is so hard and repugnant that I need these little
indulgences. Then I think of Blessed Charles- Spinola, for
example, amid the horrors of his prison, practising great
austerities, fasting, etc., which make me ashamed of my
cowardice. The Holy Spirit is constantly urging me not
to let this precious time slip by, when even a small sacrifice
is worth many a big one at other times. I see the only
chance is to mark down the special acts I do, for though
I hate doing so, I know it is an immense help, and otherwise
nothing is done. I have begun the ' Book of Little Sacrifices '
again to-day."

Another entry, made ten days later, may be quoted to
show how difficult he really found that affability and calm
ness which others remarked in him : 'I was very much
annoyed because someone burnt the floor of my dug-out
and also on finding my candles had been taken. On arriving
at Locre I found a second bed in my room and heard that
X was coming. This upset and worried me terribly till I
realized that all these things were God's doing and that
He wished to annihilate my will, so that I should never feel
even the smallest interior disturbance no matter what might
happen. I have secretly given permission to everyone to
treat me as he wishes and to trample on me ; why then
should I not try and live up to this life ? "

Some quotations from letters written at this time to a
few intimate friends and relatives will help to give us a
further glimpse of that inner life which was naturally not
revealed in the letters which he wrote home and destined
for private circulation among a circle of acquaintances.

" I am getting to feel that God does not want the sacrifice
of my life, and that I shall return safely to do His work.
Some time ago I was feeling very depressed because that

I. — A few months previously he had come across an account of Luisa de Carvajal
who, as Fr. Uoyle remarked in a letter, 'made herself the slave of her two maids.'
(Cf. the C.T.S. pamphlet, A Spanish Heroine in England.) So he wrote in a letter
dated 26th October : "I am slowly learning the lesson Jesus brought me out here to
teach me. The first and greatest is that I must have no will of my own, only Ilis,
and this in all things. It is hard to let everyone walk on you, even your own servant ;
but Jesus asks this and I try to let Him arrange all as He pleases. Result : yesterday
I got no dinner, though I foresaw this would be the consequence of this planning."
"My genius of an orderly," he wrote on 22nd December, "fried meat and pudding
together and, with a smile of triumph on his face, brought both on the same plate to
my dug-out. He is a good poor chap, but I would not recommend him as a cook."

262 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

sacrifice was greater than even you know, when my eyes
fell on these words : ' The essence of the act of sacrifice
did not consist in the slaying of the victim but in its offering.'
That seemed to make me realize that God was satisfied
with my willingness to die and that He had granted me my
heart's desire to be a martyr, because the mere act of dying
would add little to the crown of suffering I have gone
through. At the same time I feel, oh ! with what joy since
it is for Him, that I have still very much to face and that
I shall have the happiness of being wounded and shedding
my blood for Jesus. I try to crush down the longing and
to wish only what He wishes. One word more about self.
You have guessed my little secret concerning decorations.
I have asked God that I may not receive any. For my
dear Father's sake and the pleasure it would give my loved
ones at home it would be great happiness to hear I had been
honoured. But I have made the sacrifice of this to God,
and so though my name has again gone to Head Quarters,
nothing has come of it."

As a matter of fact, however, early in January Fr. Doyle
was awarded the Military Cross for his bravery at the Somme.
For various reasons he disliked this distinction but was
glad inasmuch as it gave pleasure to his Father, to whom
he thus wrote on 4th January : "I am sorry these rewards
are given to chaplains, for surely he would be a poor specimen
of the Lord's Anointed who would do ^his work for such a
thing. But seeing that they are going I must say I am really
glad because I know it will give pleasure to an ' old soldier '
at home, who ought long ago to have had all the medals
and distinctions ever conferred."1

Fr. Doyle's interests and happiness lay elsewhere. ' They
have given me the M.C.," he said, " but His crosses are
far more welcome." " I wonder," he wrote on yth November,
" I wonder is there a happier man in France than I am.
Just now Jesus is giving me great joy in tribulation, though
conditions of living are about as uncomfortable as even
S. Teresa could wish — perpetual rain, oceans of mud, damp,
cold and a plague of rats. Yet I feel that all this is a
preparation for the future and that God is labouring in my

I. — The M.C. was subsequently to Fr. Doyle's death presented to his Father.

CHRISTMAS AT THE FRONT 263

soul for ends I do not clearly see as yet. Sometimes I kneel
down with outstretched arms and pray God, if it is a part
of His divine plan, to rain down fresh privations and
sufferings." " But," he adds with a characteristic touch of
whimsical humour, " I stopped when the mud wall of my
little hut fell in upon me — that was too much of a
good joke ! "

The idea that his hard experience was preparatory to some
great consummation reappears in the following interesting
letter which he addressed to his sister on igth December,
" I want to have a little chat with you," he begins " But
you must promise to keep to yourself what I write to you.
Did I ever tell you that my present life was just the one
I dreaded most, being from a natural point of vie,w repugnant
to me in every way ? So when our Blessed Lord sent me
to the Front I felt ' angry ' with Him for taking me away
from a sphere of work where the possibilities, at least, of
doing good were so enormous, and giving me a task others
could perform much better. It was only after a time that
I began to understand that ' God's ways are not our ways,
nor His thoughts our thoughts/ and the meaning of it all
began to dawn on me. In the first place my life, especially
here in the trenches, has become a real hermit's one, cave
and all, a mixture of solitude with a touch of the hardships
of a foreign mission. The result has been that God has
come into my life in a way He never did before. He has
put strange thoughts into my head and given me many
lights which I feel have changed my whole outlook upon
life. Then I feel, oh, so strongly, that I am going through
a kind of noviceship, a sort of spiritual training, for some
big work He wants me to do in the future. I feel every day
as if spiritual strength and power were growing in my soul.
This thought of being trained or fitted for God's work (if
I may use the comparison with all reverence) like St. John
the Baptist, has filled me with extraordinary joy and made
me delight in a life which could not well be much harder.

" Here I am in a bit of a hole in the side of a ditch, so low
that I cannot stand upright and have to bend my head
and shoulders during Mass — I can tell you my back aches
at the end. My only window is the door (without a door)

264 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

through which the wind blows day and night ; and a cold
wind it is just now. I was offered a little stove but my
* Novice Master ' did not want that luxury, for it never came.
My home would be fairly dry if I could keep out the damp
mists and persuade the drops of water not to trickle from
the roof. As a rule I sleep well, though one is often roused
to attend some poor fellow who has been hit. Still it is
rather reversing the order of things to be glad to get up
in the morning to try and get warm ; and it is certainly
not pleasant to be wakened from sweet dreams by a huge
rat burrowing under your pillow or scampering over your
face ! This has actually happened to me. There is no
great luxury in the matter of food, as you may well guess.
Recently, owing to someone's carelessness, or possibly because
the bag was made to pay toll on the way up to the trenches,
my day's rations consisted of half a pot of jam and a
piece of cheese !

" Through all this, and much in addition, the one thought
ever in my mind is the goodness and love of God in choosing
me to lead this life, and thus preparing me without a chance
of refusal for the work He wants doing. No amount of
reading or meditating could have proved to me so con
vincingly that a life of privation, suffering and sacrifice,
accepted lovingly for the love of Jesus, is a life of great joy,
and surely of great graces You see, therefore, that I have
reasons in abundance for being happy, and I am truly so.
Hence you ought to be glad that I have been counted worthy
to suffer something for our dear Lord, the better to be
prepared to do His work. Ask Him, won't you, that I
may not lose this golden opportunity, but may profit to the
full by the graces He is giving me. Every loving wish from
my heart for a holy and happy Xmas. Let our gift to the
divine Babe be the absolute sacrifice of even our desires,
so that His Will alone may be done."

One final quotation will be given from an intimate
Christmas letter, so that while we are following Fr. Doyle's
outward career, so heroic and, at a safe distance, so
picturesque, we may not misread the real man within, so
hidden and unsuspected and, to most men, so unintelligible.

" I certainly did not think this time twelve months (he

CHRISTMAS AT THE FRONT 265

writes) that my next Christmas greetings to you would be
from a military camp. I cannot help wondering where my
good wishes will reach you from when another year has
passed. God has given me one grace at least since I came
here. I feel absolutely in His Hands and joyous in the
thought that no matter what may happen it will be all for
His greater glory. Though Christmas Day was miserably
wet, the Divine Babe filled my heart with joy at the thought
that my life now was a little bit at least more like to His.
I am learning here better every day that there is no life
of happiness like one full of ' hard things ' borne for love
of God, For some time past I have felt, I know not why,
an intense longing for holiness at any price. I wonder
what the price is ? Do you ever ask God to make me a
saint ? No use asking for miracles, I suppose ! Well, I
shall take my revenge by begging holiness for you.

" In some ways I have found life out here much easier
than I expected and in other respects a good deal more
trying. Still if I get only a little bit of holiness out of it
all, will it not be well worth it all ? Jesus knows I have
only one wish in this world — to love Him and Him alone —
for the rest He has carte blanche to do as He pleases in my
regard. I just leave myself in His loving Hands and so
have no anxiety or care, but great peace of soul. I am off
now for a fortnight's spell in the trenches, and if it is not
to be Saint Teresa's mori it will at least be pati."

This is not an inappropriate place for inserting an excerpt
from a similar letter though it was written some months
later (March, 1917) : " Two great lights or graces seem to
have come to me as a result of my present life. The first
is that God's will is everything to me now. . . . True,
nature rebels at times, for He has filled me with such a longing
to labour for Him, to live and suffer for His dear sake, that
the thought of death is very bitter. I can only call it a
living martyrdom. But I conquer the feeling by saying
this little prayer : ' Take, O Lord, and receive my liberty,
my health and strength, my limbs, my flesh, my blood, my
very life. Do with me just as You wish; I embrace all
lovingly — suffering, wounds, death — if only it will glorify
You one tiny bit.' That always brings back peace, even

266 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

when a bullet grazing my head drives home the reality of
the offering. The second grace is the realisation of the
immense power of prayer — I had almost said it is everything.
This urging to a constant life of prayer has been going on
for years, but I had a kind of scruple about ' wasting time '
in this way. God has set these doubts at rest. ... I
have a little system of my own for counting my prayers ;
to represent it by figures, the 10,000 before the war has
grown to 100,000 daily now, with the result that He has
entered into my life as He had never done before."

These citations will suffice to demonstrate the perfect
continuity of Fr. Doyle's inner life and to preclude the
possibility of imagining any discrepancy between the later
and the earlier stages of his ministry, however different
be the setting.

We must now indicate some of the events and conditions
which intervened before his next home-coming (igth
February, 1917). Early in December, 1916, Fr. Doyle was
changed from the Irish Fusiliers to the 8th Dublins ;
accordingly he was henceforth attached to the 48th Brigade
which was also part of the i6th Division. He was naturally
sorry to part with his men, some of whom cried when told
that he was leaving. But he was once more among Irishmen
and quite close to his old Battalion in the line. Fr. Doyle
was not far from the convent of Locre where he had a com
fortable week's billet when his six days' spell in 'the trenches
was done. His dug-out merits a passing notice. Fr. Doyle
gives a humorous description : " Picture a good respectable
deep Irish ditch with plenty of water and mud in the
bottom ; scrape a fair-sized hole in the bank, cover the top
with some sheets of iron, pile sandbags on top ; and you
have my dwelling. The door serves also as window and lets
in not only light and air, but stray cats, rats galore and many
creepy crawly beasties, not to mention rain, snow, and at
times a breeze which must have been hatched at the North
Pole." It was in this dug-out that Fr. F. M. Browne, S.J.,
met Fr. Doyle on the evening of 23rd December, 1916, when
he came up with the 2nd and gth Dublins who were relieving
the 8th Dublins and R. I. Rifles " During our whole time
there," writes Fr. Browne, " we relieved each other in this

CHRISTMAS AT THE FRONT 267

way every eight days I remember how decent Fr. Willie
used to be, coming up early on the relief days, before his
Battalion came up, in order that I might get away. He
knew how I hated it — and I did not hate it half as much
as he did. We used generally to confess each other before
leaving. We were very exact about waiting for each other,
so that I do not think the (48th) Brigade was ever without
a priest in the line." A curious thing about this chaplains'
dug-out was that it was No. 13 on the side of the hill where
Strong Point 13 was situated.1 Moreover the two chaplains
always violated the three candle superstition. Yet, in spite
of the fact that it was one of the least protected — there
were no sandbags on portion of the roof and only two rows
on the sides — it was the only dug-out, existing in Dec. 1916,
which was still untouched when the position was evacuated
on 7th June, 1917. The men used to say, " Little Fr. Doyle's
dug-out can't be hit ! " Whenever there was heavy firing,
cooks and other non-combatants used to crowd into it.
Once when Fr. Doyle hurriedly returned to get something
he had forgotten, he found twelve men squeezed into the
little dug-out which was hardly big enough to contain four !

Though this interval at the Front was comparatively quiet,
it was not altogether devoid of incidents. For example,
one day in December Fr. Doyle had just finished breakfast —
principally smoky tea tasting of petrol — when he heard a
shell come singing overhead with that peculiar note which
to the experienced betokens proximity. He ran to the
door — the running consisted of one step — and saw the
explosion about two hundred yards away at the foot of the
hill. Two more shells came, each fifty yards shorter in range
than its predecessor, the direct line of fire passing through
the dug-out, into which Fr. Doyle retired and anxiously
awaited the unwelcome visitor. Fortunately the dug-out
escaped with a shower of stones and clay on the roof. " It
is a curious thing," he observes, " that I have never had a
moment's hesitation nor ever felt fear in going into the
greatest danger when duty called and some poor chap needed

I. — On the reverse slope of the ridge running along the valley between Wytschaete
and Kemmel Hill. See map p. 223

2. — The men used to say " Little Fr. Doyle," the adjective denoting endearment
rather than stature — Fr. Doyle was 5ft. loins, high.

258 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

help. But to sit in cold blood, so to speak, and to wait
to be blown to pieces or buried by a crump is an experience
which tests one's nerves to the limit. Thank God, I have
been able to conceal my feelings and so to help others to
despise the danger, when I was just longing to take to my
heels. An officer said to me at the Somme, ' I have often
envied you your coolness and cheerfulness in hot corners.'
I rather surprised him by saying that my real feeling was
abject fear and I often shook like a leaf." That same after
noon another big shell came plump down close to where
he was sitting at hi' lunch. " Three of my lads," he recounts,
" came tearing in to my dug-out ; they had nearly been
sent to glory and felt they were safe with the priest. The
poor priest cracks a joke or two, makes them forget their
terror, and goes on with his lunch while every morsel sticks
in his throat from fear and dread of the next shell. A
moment passes, one, two, here it comes ; dead silence and
anxious faces for a second, and then we all laugh, for it is
one of our own shells going over. Five minutes more and
we know all danger has passed. It has been a memorable
day for me, though only one of many such in the past."

The approach of Christmas meant the arrival of many
presents to Fr. Doyle, which, needless to say, soon found
their way to the Dublins. " L. and W.'s gift of ' smokes,' '
he writes, " was a God-send. The parcel arrived in the
midst of pelting rain which had been going on all day. I
put on my big boots and coat, and trotted — or I should
rather say, waded — up to the front line and gave each man
a handful. You would not believe how it bucked them up
or how welcome that smoke was to the brave fellows, as
they stood there in mud and water, soaked through and
through, hungry and sleepless. ' Sure, Father, it's little
enough to bear for our sins/ is the way the rough lads look
at their hardships. Almighty God would be a queer Goc
if He did not forgive and forget whatever they may have
done, with such a spirit as this."

Christmas itself Fr. Doyle had the good luck of spendim
in billets. He got permission from General Hickie to have
Midnight Mass for his men in the Convent. The chape
was a fine large one, as in pre-war times over three hundrec

CHRISTMAS AT THE FRONT 269

boarders and orphans were resident in the Convent ; and
by opening folding-doors the refectory was added to the
chapel and thus doubled the available room. An hour
before Mass every inch of space was filled, even inside the
altar rails and in the corridor, while numbers had to remain
in the open. Word had in fact gone round about the Mass,
and men from other battalions came to hear it, some having
walked several miles from another village. Before the Mass
there was strenuous Confession-work. ' We were kept hard
at work hearing confessions all the evening till nine o'clock/*
writes Fr. Doyle, " the sort of Confessions you would like,
the real serious business, no nonsense and no trimmings.
As I was leaving the village church, a big soldier stopped
me to know, like our Gardiner Street friend, ' if the Fathers
would be sittin' any more that night/ He was soon polished
off, poor chap, and then insisted on escorting me home.
He was one of my old boys, and having had a couple of
glasses of beer — ' It wouldn't scratch the back of your throat,
Father, that French stuff ' — was in the mood to be com
plimentary. ' We miss you sorely, Father, in the battalion/
he said, ' we do be always talking about you/ Then in a
tone of great confidence : ' Look, Father, there isn't a man
who wouldn't give the whole of the world, if he had it, for
your little toe ! That's the truth.' The poor fellow meant
well, but ' the stuff that would not scratch his throat '
certainly helped his imagination and. eloquence. I reached
the Convent a bit tired, intending to have a rest before
Mass, but found a string of the boys awaiting my arrival,
determined that they at least would not be left out in the
cold. I was kept hard at it hearing Confessions till the stroke
of twelve and seldom had a more fruitful or consoling couple
of hours' work, the love of the little Babe of Bethlehem
softening hearts which ' all the terrors of war had failed
to touch."

The Mass itself was a great success and brought consolation
and spiritual peace to many a war- weary exile. This is
what Fr. Doyle says :

" I sang the Mass, the girls' choir doing the needful. One
of the Tommies, from Dolphin's Barn, sang the Adeste
beautifully with just a touch of the sweet Dublin accent

270 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

to remind us of ' home, sweet home,' the whole congregation
joining in the chorus. It was a curious contrast : the chapel
packed with men and officers, almost strangely quiet and
reverent (the nuns were particularly struck by this), praying
.and singing most devoutly, while the big tears ran down
many a rough cheek : outside the cannon boomed and the
machine-guns spat out a hail of lead : peace and good will —
hatred and bloodshed !

" It was a Mid.night Mass none of us will ever forget. A
good 500 men came to Holy Communion, so that I was
more than rewarded for my work."

On Christmas Day itself all was quiet up at the front line.
The Germans hung white flags all along their barbed wire
and did not fire a shot all day, neither did the English. For
at least one day homage was paid to the Prince of Peace.
Slaughter began next day with renewed energy. Two little
incidents which Fr. Doyle chronicles as having occurred on
26th December may be here given in his own words.

" On St. Stephen's Day the men were engaged in a football
match, when the Germans saw them, sent over a lovely
shot at long range, which carried away the goal post — the
umpire gave a ' foul ' — and bursting in the middle of the
men, killed three and wounded seven. The wounded were
bandaged up and hurried off to hospital, the dead carried
away for burial ; and then the ball was kicked off once more,
and the game went on as if nothing had happened. The
Germans must have admired the cool pluck of the players,
for they did not fire any more. This is just one little incident
of the war, showing how little is thought of human life out
here ; it sounds callous but there is no room for sentiment
in warfare, and I suppose it is better so "

The other incident is of more personal interest.

" I was riding on my bicycle past a waggon when the
machine slipped, throwing me between the front and back
wheels of the limber. Fortunately the horses were going
very slowly and I was able, how I cannot tell, to roll out
before the wheel went over my legs. I have no luck, you
see, else I should be home now with a couple of broken legs,
not to speak of a crushed head. The only commiseration
I received was the remark of some passing officers that ' the
Christmas champagne must have been very strong/ '

CHRISTMAS AT THE FRONT 271

From a few more of his letters despatched at this time
we can fill in some details and conditions of his life during
the first two months of 1917. The cold was intense.
Fr. Doyle's references thereto are suggestive and eloquent :
" Jan. 27th. Cold !

Jan. 28th. Colder ! !

Jan. 29th. More colder ! ! !

Jan. soth. !!!!!!"

Once he apologises for not writing by saying that he could
not hold a pencil in his fingers. " Before I have finished
dressing in the mornings, not a very long process/' he says,
" the water in which I had washed is frozen again.1 One
has to be very careful, too, of one's feet, keeping them well
rubbed with whale oil, otherwise you would soon find yourself
unable to walk, with half a dozen frozen toes. A dug-out
is not the warmest of spots just at present ; but even if
I felt inclined to growl, I should be ashamed to do so, seeing
what the poor men are suffering in the trenches." One
would fancy that living mostly in an open hole in the side
of a ditch while the thermometer registered several degrees
below zero, would cool even a saint's ardour for suffering.
But here is the inexorable entry in his diary (ist Feb.) :
" Constant urging of Jesus to do ' hard things ' for Him,
things which cost. I shrink from sacrifice, but I know well
He wants it and I can never be happy or at peace otherwise.
I find I am falling off in the 100,000 aspirations. Have
bound myself for a week by vow to make the full number."

Before starting a spell in the trenches Fr. Doyle used to
endeavour to get as many men as possible to Confession
on the previous evening and then to Mass and Holy Com
munion in the morning. As one battalion was some miles
from the other, this meant an early start and ride or walk,
through rain, slush and snow or, later, over hard-frozen
ground " I have celebrated Mass in some strange places
and under extraordinary conditions," he writes from the

I. — As a matter of fact the temperature was for over a fortnight many degrees
below zero. During this time it took five or six hours of hard labour to dig a grave.
"I think the limit was reached,'' writes Fr. Doyle, "when the wine froze in the
chalice at Mass, and a lamp had to be procured to melt it before going on with
the Consecration. I am thinking it will take fifty lamps to thaw out the poor
chaplain ! "

272 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

trenches on 28th December, " but somehow I was more than
usually impressed this morning The men had gathered in
what was once a small convent. For with all their faults,
their devil-may-care recklessness, they love the Mass and
regret when they cannot come. It was a poor miserable
place, cold and wet, the only light being two small candles.
Yet they knelt there and prayed as only our own Irish poor
can pray, with a fervour and faith which would touch the
heart of any unbeliever. They are as shy as children, and
men of few words ; but I know they are grateful when one
tries to be kind to them and warmly appreciate all that
is done for their soul's interest." While in the trenches
Fr. Doyle was not allowed to have Mass for his men, owing
to the danger of having many gathered together near the
firing line. So each morning he went back to where the
reserve company was stationed, about twenty minutes'
walk ; which gave those who were free a chance of coming
often to Holy Communion. On February 2nd, however, he
was able to offer the Holy Sacrifice in the trenches, his chapel
being a dug-out capable of holding ten or a dozen " But
as my congregation numbered forty-six," he says, " the
vacant space was small. How they all managed to squeeze
in I cannot say. There was no question of kneeling down ;
the men simply stood silently and reverently round the little
improvised altar of ammunition boxes, ' glad,' as one of them
quaintly expressed it, ' to have a say in it.' Surely our
Lord must have been glad also, for every one of the forty-six
received Holy Communion, and went back to his post happy
at heart and strengthened to face the hardships of these
days and nights of cold." What a difference the Real
Presence made in the ministrations and influence of a
Catholic chaplain !

These Irish lads had a simple strong faith and reverence
for the priest. That same afternoon (2nd Feb.) as Fr. Doyle
was coming back from his round of the front line trench,
he found it necessary to get under cover as shelling began.
So he crawled into a hole in which six men were already
crouching. No one could have been more welcome. " Come
in, Father," cried one, " we're safe now, anyhow." On
another similar occasion the remark was made, " Isn't the

CHRISTMAS AT THE FRONT 273

priest of God with us, what more do you want ? " The
poor fellows fancied that Fr. Doyle was invulnerable ; no
wonder when they saw him sauntering cooly around amid
shells and splinters. He was always near to cheer them up
when depressed and nervous and to minister to them when
wounded. If a raid was to be made into the enemy trenches,
he was sure to come round the line in the early hours of the
morning to relieve the men's tense strain by a cheery word
and to give each man Absolution before ' going over the
top/ Often he had but one hour's sleep. Often too as
he was fast asleep, tucked up in his blankets, dreaming
pleasantly of something ' hot ' — the favourite dream on
these cold nights — would come the call, say, " Two men
badly wounded in the firing line, Sir." In a few seconds
he had pulled on his big boots and jumped into his water
proof and was darting down the trench, floundering along
the dark ditch with an occasional star shell to intensify the
gloom, perhaps being misdirected along these tortuous
passages, more than once having to run the gauntlet of a
machine gun. And all the while there was before the
chaplain's mind the picture of " the wounded soldier, with
his torn and bleeding body, lying out there in this awful
biting cold, praying for the help that seems so slow in
coming." Here is a description of one such ' sick-call ' in
the early hours of I3th January, 1917.

" I found the dying lad — he was not much more — so tightly
jammed into a corner of the trench that it was almost
impossible to get him out. Both legs were smashed, one
in two or three places, so his chances of life were small, and
there were other injuries as well. What a harrowing picture
that scene would have made. A splendid young soldier,
married only a month they told me, lying there pale and
motionless in the mud and water, with the life crushed out
of him by a cruel shell. The stretcher bearers hard at work
binding up, as well as they may, his broken limbs ; round
about a group of silent Tommies looking on and wondering
when will their turn come. Peace for a moment seems to
have taken possession of the battle field, not a sound save
the deep boom of some far-off gun and the stifled moans
of the dying boy, while as if anxious to hide the scene, nature
drops her soft mantle of snow on the living and dead alike.

274 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

" Then, while every head is bared, come the solemn words
of absolution, ' Ego te absolve, I absolve thee from thy sins.
Depart Christian soul, and may the Lord Jesus Christ receive
thee with a smiling and benign countenance. Amen.' Oh !
surely the gentle Saviour did receive with open arms the
brave lad, who had laid down his life for Him, and as I turned
away I felt happy in the thought that his soul was already
safe in that land where ' God will wipe away all sorrow from
our eyes, for weeping and mourning shall be no more.' '

This was the message which the Catholic priest brought
with him into this arena of brutal strife and cruel bloodshed,
the vision of a world of peace. " God shall wipe away all
tears from their eyes ; and death shall be no more, nor
mourning nor crying nor sorrow shall be any more, for the
former things are passed away. And He that sat on the
throne said, Behold I make all things new." (Apoc. 21. 4.)
A new heaven and a new earth, let us hope, after the slaughter
of so many guiltless and brave men and the agony of countless
widows and orphans. " The cry of them hath entered into
the ears of the Lord of sabaoth." (Jas 5. 4.)

EASTER IN THE PAS DE CALAIS 275

CHAPTER X.
MILITARY CHAPLAIN

(i.) EASTER IN THE PAS DE CALAIS.

FR. Doyle was only a week back in the trenches
after his short trip home, when the 48th Brigade
received welcome orders to move to the rear for a
rest. The rest, however, seems to have consisted chiefly
of extra drill, apparently in preparation for the coming
offensive. " We left Belgium," he writes, " on the Saturday
before Palm Sunday (i.e. 3ist March) — a glorious morning,
dry under foot, with brilliant sunshine. The Brigade of
four regiments made a gallant show, each headed by its
band of pipers, and followed by the transport, etc. We
were the first to move off, and so came in for an extra share
of greetings from the villagers who turned out to see us
pass, as fine a lot of sturdy lads as you could wish to gaze
on, not to mention the gallant chaplain.

" Our march for the first day was not a very long one,
something aoout 20 miles, but as every pace took us further
and further from the trenches, the march was a labour of
love. At mid-day a halt was called for dinner, which had
been cooking slowly in the travelling kitchens which accom
panied us, and in a few minutes every man was sitting by
the road-side negotiating a big supply of hot meat and
potatoes with a substantial chunk of bread. We, poor
officers, were left to hunt for ourselves, a hunt which did
not promise well at first, as the people in the estaminefs
were anything but friendly and said they had nothing to
give us to eat. The reason, I discovered later, was that
some British officers had gone away without paying their
bill, a not uncommon thing I am sorry to say Eventually,
with the help of a little palaver and my bad French, our
party secured some excellent bread and butter, coffee, and
a basket of fresh eggs On again after an hour's rest.

276 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

" Marching with a heavy rifle and full kit is no joke, hence
our pace is slow. I often wonder how the poor men stick
it, and stick it they do, most of them at least, till I have
seen them drop senseless by the road from sheer exhaustion.
As a rule they are left there to follow the column as best
they can, for if they knew that falling out meant a lift, not
many of the regiment would reach their destination on
foot. To make matters worse we had to tramp along over
the rough paved roads, which must be an invention of the
Old Boy to torture people. At first the road feels like this

mmmmm then after ten miles AAAAAAA till at last you
are positive that they have paved the way with spikes instead
of stones, something in this fashion AAAAAAAAA • My
poor feet !

"At last the town we were bound for came in sight, and
hopes of a good rest were high, when word came along that
we were not to stay in that haven of peace and plenty but
trudge on another three miles. The camel is supposed to
be a patient animal, but Tommy can give him points anj^
day. Our lodging was a mutilated country farmhouse,
dirty and uncomfortable, the less said about it the better,
but everyone was too tired to care much even though we
officers, snoring on the floor, felt inclined to envy the sardines
in their comfortable box.

" It was impossible to have Mass for the men in the
morning, even though it was Palm Sunday, as there was
much work to be done and we had to be off early I got
away to the little village and offered up the Holy Sacrifice
for them, emptied a coffee pot, and fell into my place as the
regiment marched off. That was a hard day We were all
stiff and sore for want of previous exercise, and in addition
were well scourged by sleet, and rain, and snow, though at
times the sun did its best to brighten things up a bit. Our
luck turned when we reached our night's halting place, a
good-sized town with comfortable billets. A big party of
my men were quartered in the public ball-room, which
contained an automatic organ. The last I saw of them
was a score of ' couples ' waltzing round quite gaily, without
a sign of having the best part of a forty mile march to
their credit.

EASTER IN THE PAS DE CALAIS 277

" Monday saw us early afoot. Nothing of great interest,
except that the country was becoming more hilly, and
prettier, the stones harder, our feet and shoulders sorer,
quite a longing for the repose of the trenches was
springing up in many a heart. That evening ended our
tramp, and here we have been ever since, and are to remain
for some time longer, much to our joy. Probably we shall
return to the same place we came from, but no one really
knows our future movements."

" Here " was a little village in the Pas de Calais called
Nordausques, on the right (east) of the main Saint-Omer-
Calais road, about sixteen kilometres from each of these
places. During this fortnight away from the sound of the
guns, Fr. Doyle had a very busy time. So indeed had the
men. ' The morning," he says, " is given up to various
exercises, one of which is the storming of a dummy German
trench to the accompaniment of fearful, blood-curdling yells,
enough to terrify the bravest enemy. The afternoon is spent
at football and athletic sports, so that the men are having
a good, if a strenuous, time. So is the poor Padre. My two
regiments are quartered in two villages some miles apart.
The four companies of each regiment in different hamlets,
and to make things more inconvenient still, the two platoons
of each company, thirty-two in all, are distributed in as
many farmhouses. You can imagine I have no easy task
to get round to see all my men, which I am anxious to do,
so as to make sure that every man, if possible, gets to his
Easter Duty. I have Mass every morning for them with
many Communions daily, seventy to-day in one church ;
and then in the evening, having finished Devotions in one
village and heard the men's Confessions, I ride over to the
other for Rosary and Benediction, with more Confessions.
In addition to this, there are many stray units scattered
about in various places, machine-gunners, trench mortar
battery men, etc., who, with the instruction of converts,
prevent me from feeling time hanging on my hands "

This brief sojourn in the Pas de Calais enabled Fr. Doyle to
celebrate Holy Week and Easter fittingly and thus to bring
into these poor fellows' rest-interval emotions higher than
those involved in rehearsals for future bloodshed. " On Spy

278 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

Wednesday evening," he recounts, " after Benediction, I
told the men I wanted nine volunteers to watch an hour
during the following night before the Altar of Repose. I had
barely finished speaking when the whole church made a
rush up to the altar rails, and were keenly disappointed
when I told them I could only take the first nine, though
I could have had thirty an hour if I wanted them. I was
touched by the poor fellows' generosity, for they had just
finished a long, hard day's work with more before them.
I got the nine men to bring their blankets into the little
sacristy, and while one watched, the others slept. Surely
our Lord must have been pleased with His Guard of Honour,
and will bless them as only He can."

" Easter Sunday," he continues, " was quite a red letter
day in the annals of the town. The regiment turned out
in full strength, headed by the pipers, and crowded the
sanctuary, every inch of the church, and out beyond. I had
eight stalwart sergeants standing guard with fixed bayonets
round the altar. At the Consecration and also at the Com
munion of the Mass the buglers sounded the Royal Salute
which is only given to Monarchs. The guard at the word
of command presented arms, and in our poor humble way
we tried to do honour to the Almighty King of Kings on the
day of His glorious triumph. I must not forget to add
that the lassies and maidens did us the honour of coming
to sing during Mass, casting many an envious glance (so
rumour says) down on the handsome Irish lads praying so
devoutly below."

No wonder that Fr. Doyle wrote a little later : ' The
faith and fervour of our Irish lads have made a great
impression everywhere. I was once quite delighted to hear
the cure* rubbing it into his congregation, drawing a contrast
between them and the Irish soldiers much to the disadvantage
of the former." On Easter Sunday the good cure received
a very tangible proof of Irish faith, for his collection bag
contained a very unprecedented number of silver coins and
five franc notes. When referring to his host in Nordausques,
Fr. Doyle was led to make some general observations which
may be worth recording :

' The village was blest by the presence of a holy, zealous

EASTER IN THE PAS DE CALAIS 279

cure, who seemed more anxious even than I, that the men
should profit spiritually by their stay in his parish, and not
only gave me every facility for my work, but himself helped
as far as he could. I am convinced the French clergy will
benefit very much by this war. All over the country, as
you know, there are a multitude of tiny parishes, numbering
often less than 200 souls including children. Even if all
therein were practical Catholics, that would never give work
for a priest with two wooden legs, the result being that a
man with little to do often does less than he has to do, for
abundance of work creates a spirit of zeal. Now that the
ranks of the clergy have been sorely decimated, some three
thousand French priests have been killed already, the sur
vivors will have to multiply their efforts, and take charge
of perhaps two or three parishes, much to their own personal
advantage, I think."

The quiet if strenuous interlude amid the hills and pine-
woods of the Pas de Calais came to an end all too soon. Low
Sunday saw the men once more on their trenchward march,
to the tune of cold pelting rain. That night a halt was made
close to Saint-Omer, which gave Fr. Doyle an opportunity
of visiting the twelfth century Cathedral and the old Jesuit
College from which Stonyhurst was founded. The final
stage of the journey was very trying, the men " had to face
the cobble stones at six in the morning with a hurricane
of rain and sleet which slashed like a whip." and arrived
near Locre after tramping for over eight hours without
a morsel of food. Once more life in and out of the
trenches began.

(2.) MAY DEVOTIONS.

During the first fortnight of May the whole 48th Brigade —
consisting of 2nd, 8th, and gth R. Dublin Fusiliers and
6~7th R. Irish Rifles — was out of the trenches. The and
and 8th Dublins were in Locre and the gth were at Clare
Camp less than two miles west of Locre ; the Rifles were
at Kemmel, three miles east of Locre.1 The two chaplains,

i. — See map p. 223.

a8o FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

Fr. Browne and Fr. Doyle, availed themselves of this interval
to organize Month of May devotions for the men Every
evening they had rosary, hymns, short sermon, and
Benediction, followed by more hymns — the ' boys ' liked to
hear their own voices. " One result of the devotions,"
writes Fr. Doyle, " has been the conversion of the only
really black sheep in the regiment, a man very many years
away from his duty, a hard morose character, upon whom
I had many times failed to make any impression. I saw
it was useless to argue with him, so at the beginning of the
month I handed him over to the Blessed Virgin as a hopeless
case with which she alone could deal. Last evening I met
him and thought I would try once more to make him see
the awful danger he was running of losing his soul. It was
all no use, the devil had his prey too tightly held to shake
him off like that. Then a thought struck me, ' Look,' I
said, ' this is the month of May ; you surely won't refuse
our Blessed Lady.' The poor fellow fell on his knees, and
there and then made his confession. I gave him Holy
Communion and now he is a changed man, as happy as
a lark."

In Fr. Doyle's notebook there are some hastily written
outlines of talks to his men. Though they refer to an earlier
period of the year — during this May he preached chiefly
on the Litany of our Lady1 — these rough notes will give
us an idea of his practical homely style. Hence a few
extracts will be given here.

" TWO SOLEMN MOMENTS."

" The end of that life which God gave to be spent in His
service.

" A solemn moment when we lie down for the last time
and look back upon our life which is gone for ever — a
precious talent entrusted to us, not to misuse, or bury in
ground, like slothful servant, but to spend to good use till
the Master comes.

i. — " I remember well," writes Fr. F. Browne, " Fr. Doyle's wonderful fervour
and eloquence on ' Virgin most faithful ' and also on ' Help of Christians.' "

MAY DEVOTIONS 281

•' What is true of end of life equally true of end of a year.
Another milestone of our journey to eternity. Just 365
days of a life already so short passed away. All of us have
taken a big stride towards the hour of our death, and let
us not forget it, the happiness and reward of Heaven.

" For a moment let us pause in this journey of life and look
back. What strikes us ? (i) God's goodness. How many
began last year well and strong, full of plans, now dead.
How many a young life quenched on the battle field. A
million a week died. All that time God's Providence has
watched over us and protected us from danger. His love
surrounded us.

" (2) Our opportunities. Life means more than the mere
enjoyment of living, the time of sowing the seed of good
works whose harvest we shall reap in Heaven ; as long as
we live we can merit. Pile up treasures in Heaven and
increase our happiness for all eternity. Holy Mass,
Sacraments, and prayers, every act we do for God means
greater joy and glory.

" (3) Our return. Walk back the road — our angel has kept
the watch of every act. Tablets to mark spots where our
acts were done, (a) Piles of curses, bad language. (6) Rows
of empty beer bottles with all the sins they bring, (c) In
a word little good but much evil.

" A sad picture, but we must not lose heart. Last mile
of march, tighten knapsack on back, pull ourselves together
and step out more hardy for the last mile. For many the
last mile of life. We shall make it worthy of Him so good
to us : — more prayers, duty better done ; greater watch
fulness over our tongues and our evil inclinations, so that
we may exclaim : I have fought a good fight, done my duty
to my country and my God : — a crown of glory."

" CONFESSION."

"A serious word : matter of life and death, eternal life,
the salvation or damnation of many depend upon it. Going
to the Front in a couple of weeks, in middle of shot and shell,
in danger at any moment of instant death Are you ready

282 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

to face God ? None of us are afraid, it has to come some
time, but, ' know ye not there is a judgement ? ' ' O Lord
preserve thou my soul.' So much depends on it. ' What
shall I do . . .to judge.' God won't be very angry
about our sins He knows our weakness. ' He is a patient
and merciful God ' but furious that we should appear before
His holy Face covered with sin and every abomination
when we could have got rid of all.

" The Wedding Garment. You know where you can find
the white ' wedding garment/ find the pond of the Sacred
Blood where to wash stains away. Don't delay. Hell full
of men who said ' later on.' God help the man who when
he had the chance did not make his peace with God.

"I am pleading for your immortal souls; it matters little
in the end whether we have been rich or poor, lives of
hardship or pleasure, but to save one's soul or lose it
matters much.

" It may be hard for some to square up accounts (not half
so hard as you think) but a million times harder to burn
in Hell, cursing your folly.

Confessions 4 to 6 in C. Hut."

"THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY."

" Saddened and disappointed not better response (Con
fession). Man who said he would go after Boer War. All
intend to go ; miserable. ' Later on.' Hell full of men
who said ' later on.' Public house.

" To-day's Gospel (5 Matthew 8. 1-13.) : Leper, awful sight,
image of sin. ' Lord, Thou canst make me clean.'
show yourself to the priest.' Christ says same now. He
longing to forgive the past ; to wash away every iniquity
to make sins red as scarlet, whiter than snow. For the sake
of your immortal souls. Far harder to hear the awful wore
' Depart ye cursed, I know ye not.' '

"FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY."

' Lord save us we perish ' Gospel (5. Matthew 8. 23 27).

Man's life a warfare ; not for country, body, but

immortal souls.

MAY DEVOTIONS 283

" Our Lord wishes to remind us of this incident hinted
in gospel. We often find fierce storms springing up in our
souls. We call them temptation, storms of anger — impurity,
craving for drink, stirred up by the devil who hopes to lead
us to destruction. We need not fear temptation.

(1) Not sin : — Christ's temptation.

(2) A good sign — Blessed Cure d'Ars. ' Became pleasing

to God.' ' Prepare thy soul for temptation/

(3) Merit.

" Remedies, (a) Avoid devil (women). (b) Pray. Christ
knew danger of disciples. ' Came a great calm/ the reward
of victory ; remorse after sin ; each victory means strength.
' Count it all joy/ "

(3.) THE PADRE IN THE TRENCHES.

Long before the titles of our Lady's Litany were exhausted
it was time to return to the trenches. At the conclusion
of such a respite the chaplain used to give General Absolution.
In a letter written to his father about this time Fr. Doyle
thus describes and comments on the touching scene :

" We reap a good harvest with confessions every day, at
any time the men care to come, but there are many who
for one reason or another cannot get away, hence before
going into the trenches, which nearly always means death
for some poor fellows, we give them a General Absolution.
I do not think there can be a more touching or soul inspiring
sight than to see a whole regiment go down upon their knees,
to hear that wave of prayer go up to Heaven, as hundreds
of voices repeat the Act of Contrition in unison, ' My God,
I am heartily sorry that I have ever offended You/ There
is an earnestness and a depth of feeling in their voices, which
tells of real sorrow, even if one did not see the tears gather
in the eyes of more than one brave man. And then the
deep, reverent silence as the priest raises his hand over the

284 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

bowed heads and pronounces the words of forgiveness.
Human nature is ever human nature, and even Irish soldiers
commit sins ; you can picture then the feelings of any priest
standing before that kneeling throng, knowing that by the
power of God his words have washed every soul pure and
white. I love to picture the foul garment of sin falling
from every man there at the words of Absolution, and to
watch the look of peace and happiness on the men's faces
as they lift their rifles and fall into rank, ready for anything,
even ' to meet the divil himself,' as my friend of long ago
shouted out as he marched by me. Don't you agree with
me that the consolations and real joys of my life far outweigh
the hard things and privations, even if there were no ' little
nest-egg ' being laid up in a better and happier world ?

It is when we read such an extract that we most clearly
realise the inner motive-power which sustained Fr. Doyl
amid ' the hard things and privations/ far more irkson
and painful to him than to one mentally less idealistic
physically less highly strung and sensitive. He was brave
and untiring, not because he found life congenial, but becaus
he found it so hard. His interests were concentrated 01
his mission to be ' another Christ ' ; this was the ideal ii
whose consuming fire all other ideas were fused. " I can
say with all truth," he wrote, " I have never spent a happier
year. For though I have occasionally felt as if the limit
of endurance were reached, I have never lost my good spirits,
which have helped me over many a rough road " He needed
all his courage. What a life it was ! From extremes of
heat to unimagined depths of cold ; for days water above,
below, everywhere, and then from this aquatic misery to
burning sun and parching thirst. There were long tramps
by day, with pack and equipment growing heavier each
hour, till one became a mass of sweat and mud ; nights
without sleep, burying the dead or stumbling along trenches
to minister to the dying ; nights, too, made hideous by
bursting shells or the still more terrible warning of
approaching poison-gas. Our thoughts go back to Paul of
Tarsus, whose life was spent " in journeying often, in perils
of waters, in perils of robbers, ... in labour and pain-
fulness, in much watchings, in hunger and thirst, in fastings

THE PADRE IN THE TRENCHES 285

often, in cold and nakedness." (// Cor. IT. 26. )l Yet, as
Fr. Doyle pointed out, these physical sufferings were light
in comparison with that constant sense of insecurity and
suspense, the strain of being never really oat of danger for
miles behind the front, the oppressive feeling of waiting
for the stroke of an uplifted sword. " Pain and privation,"
he writes, " are only momentary, they quickly pass and
become even delightfully sweet, if only borne in the spirit
with which many of my grand boys take these things :
' Shure, Father, it's not worth talking about ; after all, is
it not well to have some little thing to suffer for God and
His Blessed Mother ? ' But the craven fear which at times
clutches the heart, the involuntary shrinking and dread of
human nature at danger and even death, are things which
cannot be expressed in words. An officer, who had gone
through a good deal himself, said to me recently : ' I never
realized before what our Lord must have suffered in the
Garden of Gethsemane when He began to fear and grow
sorrowful.' Yet His grace is always there to help one when
most needed, and though the life is hard and trying at times,
I have never ceased to thank Him for the privilege (I can
call it nothing else) of sharing in this glorious work."

In a letter written to his father on 25th July, he invites
him to come in spirit with him on a visit to the trenches.
He is thus led to describe a typical incident of his ' glorious
work,' which must have been as consoling to the father as
it was to the son. " There is a party coming towards us
down the trench," he writes ; " aud as they have the right
of way, we must squeeze into a corner to let them pass.

I. — Life at the Front was after all not so different from that of the foreign mission
which had been Fr. Doyle's ambition. "You have to be an Indian," wrote the
martyr John de Bre"beuf in 1635. " Bend your shoulders to the same burdens as they

bear Remember that Jesus Christ is the true greatness of the missionary.

Him alone and His cross are you to seek, in running after these people. With Him

you will find roses on thorns, sweets in bitterness, everything in nothingness

You will sleep on a skin, and many a night you will never close an eye on account of

the vermin that swarm over you Blasphemy and obscenity are commonly

on their lips. You are often without Mass ; and when you succeed in saying it, your
cabin is full of smoke or snow. The Indians never leave you alone and are continually

yelling and shouting at the top of their voice The food will be insipid, but

the gall and vinegar of our Blessed Saviour will make it like honey on your lips. . . .
You have only the necessaries of life, and that makes it easy to be united with God.
.... You are obliged to pray, for you are facing death at every moment."-
T. J. Campbell, S.J., Pioneer Priests of North America : Among the ffurons, 1910,
pp. 104-107.

286 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

A poor wounded fellow lies on a stretcher with death already
stamped on his face. The bearers lay their burden gently
down — these rough men have the tender heart of a woman
for the wounded — reverently uncover their heads and with
draw a little as the priest kneels behind the dying man's
head. A glance at the identity-disc on his wrist, stamped
with his name, regiment, and religion, shows that he is a
Catholic — for there are few men, no matter what their belief,
who do not carry a rosary or a Catholic medal round their
necks. I wonder what the non-Catholic Padres think of
this fearful increase of Idolatry ! 'Ah, Father, is that
you ? Thanks be to God for His goodness in sending you ;
my heart was sore to die without the priest. Father — the
voice was weak and came in gasps — Father, oh, I am glad
now, I always tried to live a good life, it makes death so
easy.' The Rites of the Church were quickly administered
though it was hard to find a sound spot on that poor smashed
face for the Holy Oils, and my hands were covered with his
blood. The moaning stopped ; I have noticed that a score
of times, as if the very touch of the anointing brought relief.
I pressed the crucifix to his lips as he murmured after me :
4 My Jesus mercy,' and then as I gave him the Last Blessing
his head fell back, and the loving arms of Jesus were pressing
to His Sacred Heart the soul of another of His friends, who
I trust will not forget, amid the joys of Heaven, him who
was sent across his path to help him in his last moments.

"It is little things like this which help one over the hard
days and sweeten a life which has little in it naturally
attractive. If you had come up the trench with me twelve
months ago on the morning of the gas attack and watched
that same scene repeated hour after hour, I think you would
have thanked God for the big share you have in the salvation
of so many souls."

We are able to narrate one or two incidents of ' this glorious
work ' which occurred at this period. ' The enemy for once
did me a good turn," he writes on 22nd May. " I had
arranged to hear the men's confessions shortly before he
opened fire, and a couple of well directed shells helped my
work immensely by putting the fear of God into the hearts
of a few careless boys who might not have troubled about

THE PADRE IN THE TRENCHES 287

coming near me otherwise. I wonder were the Sacraments
ever administered under stranger circumstances ? Picture
my little dug-out (none too big at any time) packed with
men who had dashed in for shelter from the splinters and
shrapnel coming down like hail. In one corner is kneeling
a poor fellow recently joined — who has not ' knelt to the
priest/ as the men quaintly say, for many a day — trying
to make his Confession. I make short work of that, for a
shower of clay and stones falling at the door is a gentle hint
that the ' crumps ' are getting uncomfortably near, and I
want to give him Absolution in case an unwelcome visitor
should walk in. Then, while the ground outside rocks and
seems to split with the crash of the shells, I give them all
Holy Communion, say a short prayer, and perform the
wonderful feat of packing a few more men into our sardine
tin of a house. .

"As soon as I got the chance, I slipped round to see how
many casualties there were, for I thought not a mouse could
survive the bombardment. Thank God, no one was killed
or even badly hit, and the firing having ceased, we could
breathe again. I was walking up the trench from the
dressing station when I suddenly heard the scream of another
shell. ... It was then I realized my good fortune.
There are two ways to my dug-out, and naturally I choose
the shorter. This time, without any special reason, I went
by the longer way ; and it was well I did. for the shell pitched
in the other trench, and probably would have caught me
nicely as I went by. But instead of that it wreaked its
vengeance on my unfortunate orderly, who was close by
in his dug-out, sending him spinning on his head but other
wise not injuring him I found another string of men
awaiting my return in order to get Confession and Holy
Communion. In fact I had quite a busy evening, thanks
once more to Fritz's High Explosive, which has a wonderful
persuasive effect of its own. I am wondering how many
pounds of H.E. I shall require when giving my next
retreat ! "

In his letter of 2Qth May he records an exploit of his in
which, he thinks, " there was really little danger." "A few
nights ago," he writes, " I had been along the front line as

288 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J

usual to give the men a General Absolution which they are
almost as anxious to receive for the comfort it will be for
their friends at home, should they fall, as for themselves.
I was coming down to the advanced dressing station, when
I learned that a small party had ' gone over the top ' on
our right, though I had been told the raid was only from the
left. When I got to the spot I found they had all gone
and were lying well out in No Man's Land. It was a case
of Mahomet and the mountain once more. The poor
' mountain ' could not come back, though they were just
longing to, but the prophet could go out, could he not ?
So Mahomet rolled over the top of the sandbags into a
friendly shell hole, and started to crawl on his hands and
knees and stomach towards the German trenches. Mahomet,
being only a prophet, was allowed to use bad language, of
which privilege he availed himself, so report goes, to the
full, for the ground was covered with bits of broken barbed
wire, shell splinters, nettles, etc., etc., and the poor prophet
on his penitential pilgrimage left behind him much honest
sweat and not a few drops of blood.

" That was a strange scene ! A group of men lying on
their faces, waiting for certain death to come to some of
them, whispering a fervent act of contrition, and God's
priest, feeling mighty uncomfortable and wishing he were
safely in bed a thousand miles away, raising his hand in
Absolution over the prostrate figures. One boy, some little
distance off, thinking the Absolution had not reached him,
knelt bolt upright, and made an act of contrition you could
have heard in Berlin, nearly giving the whole show away
and drawing the enemy's fire.

" There was really little danger, as shell holes were
plentiful, but not a little consolation when I buried the dead
next day to think that none of them had died without
Absolution. I was more afraid getting back into our own
trenches ; for sentries, seeing a man coming from the
direction of No Man's Land, do not bother much about
asking questions and object to nocturnal visitors."

The next night (24th May) another raid was made and
Fr Doyle recounts how he was able to help a poor prisoner.
" One German prisoner, badly wounded in the leg, was

THE PADRE IN THE TRENCHES 289

brought in," he writes. " He knew only a few words of
English, but spoke French fluently. I try to do all I can
for the unfortunate prisoners, as sometimes not much
sympathy is shown them, and they have evidently been
drilled into believing that we promptly roast and eat them
alive. I gave him a drink, made him as comfortable as
possible, and then seeing a rosary in his pocket, asked him
was he a Catholic. ' I am a Catholic priest,' I said, ' and
you need not have any fear/ ' Ah, monsieur/ he replied,
' vous etes un vrai pretre ' (you are a true priest). He gave
me his home address in Germany, and asked me to write
to his parents. ' Poor father and mother will be uneasy,'
he said, as his eyes filled with tears. ' O mon Dieu, how
I am suffering, but I offer it all up to You/ I hope to get
a letter through by means of the Swiss Red Cross, which
will be a comfort to his anxious parents, who seem good
pious souls/'1

What a consoling little picture of Christian charity rising
above human strife and passion ! What an insight into the
noble peace-mission of " a true priest " !

One other quotation will give a further little illustration
of Fr. Doyle's ministry while his men were in reserve. Early
on the morning of Sunday, 3rd June, they were relieved,
after a rather strenuous time of sixteen days in the front
line, more than usually trying for want of sleep. As Mass
for the men was not till mid-day, Fr. Doyle had " planned
a glorious soak in the convent, an unblushing gluttonous
feast of blankets, for the poor old tired 'oss." But through
some misunderstanding his orderly did not turn up with
his horse, so he had to trudge back with his heavy pack.
On reaching his billet at 2 a.m., he found the door of his
room locked. " I had not the heart to wake up the poor
nuns," he says ; " and after all when one is fast asleep, is
not a hard plank just as soft as a feather bed ? You see
I am becoming a bit of a philosopher ! " ' The next
morning," he continues, " I had Mass in a field close to the
camp. I wish you could have seen the men as they knelt
in a hollow square round the improvised altar, brilliant
sunshine overhead, and the soft green of spring about them.

I. —See other instances of his kindness to prisoners on pp. 246, 299.
T

290 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE. SJ.

They looked so happy, poor lads, as I went down one line
and up the other, giving them the Bread of the Strong, and
I could not help thinking of another scene long ago when
our Lord made the multitude sit down on the grass, and fed
them miraculously with the seven loaves. Before I got to
the end of my 700 Communions I felt wondrous pity for the
twelve Apostles, for they must have been jolly tired also.

"At present I am living in the camp which is further back
even than the convent, out in the green fields of the country,
most peaceful and restful. I have a little tent to myself,
but have Rosary, Mass, Confessions, etc., out in the open.
The men have absolutely no human respect, and kneel in
rows waiting for their turn ' to scrape,'1 as if they were
in the church at home, paying no heed to the endless stream
of traffic. I am sure non-Catholics must wonder what on
earth we are at."

While solicitous for his flock when under his charge, he
was not unmindful of them when dead. The following
letter, which appeared in the Irish Catholic »for 26th May,
1917, was written by Fr. Doyle.

" Dear Sir — One is often struck, on glancing over the
papers, at the numerous appeals made to provide ' comforts
for our troops,' but no one ever seems to think that the
souls of those who have fallen in battle may possibly be
in need of much greater comfort than the bodies of their
comrades who survive

" With all the spiritual help now at their disposal, even
in the very firing line, we may be fairly confident that few,
if any, of our Catholic men are unprepared to meet Almighty
God. That does not mean they are fit for Heaven. God's
justice must be fully satisfied, and the debt of forgiven sin
fully atoned for in Purgatory. Hence I venture to appeal
to the great charity of your readers to provide ' comforts
for our dead soldiers ' by having Masses offered for their
souls. Remembrance of our dead and gratitude are virtues
dear to every Irish heart. Our brave lads have suffered
and fought and died for us. They have nobly given their
lives for God and country. It is now our turn to make
some slight sacrifice, so that they may soon enter into the
joy of eternal rest. — Very faithfully yours, NEMO."

I. — " Scraping one's kettle" was expressive slang for cleaning one's soul by Confession.

WYTSCHAETE RIDGE 291

(4.) WYTSCHAETE RiDGE.1

" To save you unnecessary anxiety," Fr. Doyle wrote to
his father on nth June, " I told you in my last note (that
of 5th June already quoted) that we were again on the march,
which was quite true, but the march was not backwards
but towards the enemy. When I wrote we were on the
eve of one of the biggest battles of the war, details of which
you will have read in the morning papers." In another
confidential letter of the same date (5th June), however,
he was more communicative. " I have not told them at
home," he wrote, " and do not want them to know but
we have had a terrible time for the last three weeks, constant
and increasing shelling, with many wonderful escapes. We
are on the eve of a tremendous battle and the danger will
be very great. Sometimes I think God wishes the actual
sacrifice of my life — the offering of it was made long ago.
But if so, that almost useless life will be given most joyfully.
I feel wonderful peace and confidence in leaving myself
absolutely in God's Hands. Only I know it would not be
right, I would like never to take shelter from bursting shells ;
and up to a few days ago, till ordered by the Colonel, I never
wore a steel helmet. I want to give myself absolutely to
Him to do with me just as He pleases, to strike or kill me,
as He wishes, trying to go along bravely and truthfully,
looking up into His loving Face, for surely He knows best.
On the other hand I have the conviction, growing stronger
every day, that nothing serious will befall me ; a wound
would be joy, ' to shed one's blood for Jesus,' when I would
gladly empty my veins for Him. Otherwise why would He
impress so strongly on my mind that this ' novitiate ' out
here is only the preparation for my real life's work ? Why
does He put so many schemes and plans into my mind ?
Why has He mapped out several little books, one of which
will do great good, I believe, because every word will be
His ? Then the possibilities of the Holy Childhood have
gripped me, and His little perishing souls, 10,000 a day,

i. — See map on p. 223.

292 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ

seem ever to be pleading for a sight of Jesus ! Yet I have
laid even the desire to do these things at His Feet, and I
strive might and main to have no will but His, for this pleases
Him most. I am very calm and trustful in face of the awful
storm so soon to burst. But could it be otherwise, when
He is ever with me and when I know that should I fall, it
will only be into His Arms of love ? "

Fr. Doyle atoned for his previous reticence by sending
his father, immediately after the battle, a rather long account
of his own experiences during the few weeks prior to the
attack of yth June, as well as during the actual engagement.

" For months past preparations on a gigantic scale were
being made for the coming attack, every detail of which
the Germans knew. For some reason or other they left us in
comparative peace for a long time, and then suddenly started
to shell us day and night.

" We had just gone into the line for our eight days, and
a lively week it was. How we escaped uninjured from the
rain of shells which fell round about us, I do not know. The
men had practically no shelter, as their dug-outs would
scarcely keep out a respectable fat bullet, not to speak of
a nine or twelve-inch shell (this is the diameter of the shell-
base, not its length), and used to run to me for protection
like so many big children with a confidence I was far from
feeling, that the ' priest ' was a far better protection than
yards of re-inforced concrete.

" I have come back to my little home more than once
in the early hours of the morning to find it packed with
two-legged smoking ' sardines/ quite happy and content in
spite of Fritz's crumps, to be greeted with the remark : ' We
were just saying, Father, that this is a lucky dug-out, and
it is well for us that we have your Reverence with us.' God
bless them for their simple faith and trust in Him, for I feel
I 'owe it to my brave boys that we were not blown sky-high
twenty times. In fact the ' Padre's Dug-out ' was quite
a standing joke among the officers, who used to come after
a strafe to see how much of it was left.

" Our next eight days in support were even worse, as the
Germans had brought up more guns, and used them freely.
Our Head-Quarters was a good sized house, which had never

WYTSCHAETE RIDGE 293

been touched since the war began, being well screened by
a wood behind. We were in the middle of dinner the first
evening, when in quick succession half a dozen shells burst
close around. It was only later on we learned the reason
of this unexpected attack. One of the officers, in spite of
strict orders to the contrary, had gone on a raid with a map
in his pocket on which he had marked various positions,
our H.Q. among others. He was captured, and ' the fat
was in the fire.' Owing to someone's carelessness no
provision had been made for protection against bombard
ment, and we had to stand in the open with our backs against
a brick wall, watching the shells pitching right and left
and in front, wondering when would our turr^ come.

' Three or four times each night at a couple of hours'
interval the torture began afresh, just as one was dozing
off to sleep, sending men and officers flying for safety to the
' shady side ' of the house. Shelling in the open or in a
trench is not so pleasant, but this was horrible, for we knew
the guns were searching for the spot so obligingly marked
on our map. One morning about 2 a.m. I had gone down
the road to look after some men, when two shells smashed
in the roof of the house I had left, killing five of our staff,
and nearly knocking out the Colonel and two other officers.
We got shelter in another Mess only to find that this was a
marked spot too, though the aim was not so accurate.

"All during this time our guns were keeping up the
bombardment of the Wytschaete Village and Ridge, which
the i6th Irish Division were to storm. I think I am accurate
in saying that not for ten minutes at any time during these
sixteen days did the roar of our guns cease. At times one
or two batteries would keep the ball rolling, and then with
a majestic crash every gun, from the rasping field piece up
to the giant fifteen-inch howitzer, would answer to the call
of battle, till not only the walls of the ruined houses shook
and swayed but the very ground quivered. You may
fancy the amount of rest and sleep we got during that period,
seeing that we lived in front of the cannon, many of them
only a few yards away, while the Germans with clock-work
regularity pelted us with shells from behind. If you want
to know what a real headache is like, or to experience the

294 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

pleasure of every nerve in your body jumping about like so
many mad cats, take the shilling, and spend a week or two
near the next position we hope to capture.

"All things come to an end, and at last we finished our
sixteen days Limbo (Purgatory is not near enough to Hell !)
and marched back to the rest camp with tongues, to vary
the metaphor, hanging out for sleep. That night a villainous
enemy airman dropped bombs close to our tents, and the
following day the guns shelled us, far back as we were. We
must be a bad lot, for ' there is no rest for the wicked/ they
say. For once my heart stood still with fear, not so much
for myself as for the poor men. There we were on the side
of a hill, four regiments crowded together, our only protection
the canvas walls of the tents, with big shells creeping nearer
and nearer

" Orders had been given to scatter, but it takes time to
disperse some 4,000 men, and one well-aimed shell would
play havoc in such a crowd. Forgive me for mentioning
this little incident. I want to do so in gratitude and to
bring out the wonderful love and tenderness of our Divine
Lord for His own Irish soldiers, not to claim the smallest
credit for myself. I had brought the Ciborium to my tent
after Mass, as the men were coming to Confession and Holy
Communion all the day. Human beings could not help us
then, but He, Who stilled the tempest, could do so easily.
There was only time for one earnest ' Lord save my poor
boys,' for at any moment the camp might be shambles
full of dead and dying, before I rushed out into the open.
As I did a shell landed a few feet behind an officer, sending
him spinning, but he jumped up unhurt. A moment more
down came a second right into the middle of a group of men,
and, miracle of miracles, failed to explode. A third burst
so close to another party I was sure half were killed, though
I must confess I never saw dead men run so fast before.
And so it went on, first on one side, then on another, but
at the end of the half hour's bombardment not a single man
of the four regiments had been hit, even slightly.

' The chances of a good night's rest were at an end, for
we had to turn out to sleep, as best we could, under the
hedges and trees of the surrounding country. It was a big

WYTSCHAETE RIDGE 295

loss to the men, as once the attack (which was due in three
days) began, there was little chance of closing an eye. We
priests say a prayer at the end of our Office asking the Lord
to grant noctem quietam (a peaceful night). I never fully
appreciated this prayer till now, and have said it more than
once lately with heart-felt earnestness.

" These few days were busy ones for us, Fr. Browne and
myself. The men knew they were preparing for death, and
availed themselves fully of the opportunities we were able
to give them. Fortunately the weather was gloriously fine,
so there was no difficulty about Mass in the open. There
was a general cleaning up and polishing of souls, some of
them not too shiny, a General Communion on two days
for all the men and officers, with the usual rosary and prayers
each evening, consoling for us, because we felt the men
had done their best, and the future might be safely left in
the hands of the great and merciful Judge.

" I fancy the feelings of most of us were the same : awe,
not a little fear, and a big longing to have it all over. We
knew the seriousness of the task before us, for Wytschaete
Hill, the key of the whole position, was regarded even by the
General Staff, as almost impregnable, and the German boast
was that it would never be taken. Without detracting one
bit from the dash and bravery of our Irish lads, which won
unstinted praise from everyone — ' The best show I have seen
since I came to France/ said Sir D. Haig — full credit must
be given to the artillery for pounding the defences to dust,
without which our troops would still be on this side of the
300 ft. hill, instead of a couple of miles on the other side.
Everyone felt the losses would be severe, if not colossal,
and, as we sat on our hill and gazed down into the valley
beyond, crammed with roaring guns, and watched the shells
bursting in hundreds, knowing the moment was near for
us to march down into that hell of fire and smoke, it was
small wonder if many a stout heart quaked, and thoughts
flew to the dear ones at home, whom one hardly hoped to
see again.

" There were many little touching incidents during these
days ; one especially I shall not easily forget. When the
men had left the field after the evening devotions, I noticed

296 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

a group of three young boys, brothers I think, still kneeling
saying another rosary. They knew it was probably their
last meeting on earth and they seemed to cling to one another
for mutual comfort and strength, and instinctively turned
to the Blessed Mother to help them in their hour of need.
There they knelt as if they were alone and unobserved,
their hands clasped and faces turned towards heaven, with
such a look of beseeching earnestness that the Mother of
Mercy surely must have heard their prayer : ' Holy Mary
pray for us now — at the hour of our death. Amen.' '

In a subsequent letter (25th July) Fr. Doyle refers to some
of the talks which he gave to his men during these days.
So the passage may be inserted here " Before the last
big battle," he writes, " I gave the men a few talks about
Heaven, where I hope many of them are now. I have the
satisfaction of knowing that what I said helped the poor
fellows a good deal, and made them face the coming dangers
with a stouter heart. The man of whom I told you last
year, who said he ' did not care a d— - for all the b—
German shells, (please excuse language), because he was
with the priest that morning/ expressed in a forcible manner
what many another felt, that when all is said and done, a
man's religion is his biggest (and only true) consolation,
and the source of real courage. I reminded them of the
saying of the Blessed Cure d' Ars : ' When we get to Heaven
and see all the happiness which is to be ours for ever, we
shall wonder why we wanted to remain even one day on
earth.' God hides these things from our eyes, for if we
saw now ' the things God has prepared for those that love
Him/ life on earth would be absolutely unlivable, and so,
I said, the man who falls in the charge is not the loser but
immensely the gainer, is not the unlucky one but the fortunate
and blessed. You should have seen how the poor chaps
drank in every word, for rough and ignorant as they are,
they are full of Faith ; though I fear their conception of an
ideal Heaven, for some at least, would be a place of unlimited
drinks and no closing time There was a broad smile when
I told them so ! "

" On Wednesday night, June 6th," continues Fr Doyle,
" we moved off, so as to be in position for the attack at

WYTSCHAETE RIDGE 297

3.10 a.m. on Thursday morning, the Feast of Corpus Christ! !
I got to the little temporary chapel at the rear of our trenches
soon after twelve, and tried to get a few moments' sleep
before beginning Mass at one, a hopeless task, you may
imagine, as the guns had gone raging mad. I could not
help thinking would this be my last Mass, though I really
never had any doubt the good God would continue to protect
me in the future as He had done in the past, and I was quite
content to leave myself in His hands, since He knows what
is best for us all."

It was 11.50 when Fr. Browne and Fr. Doyle reached
the little sandbag chapel which they had used when holding
the line. There they lay down for an hour's rest on two
stretchers borrowed from the huge pile waiting near by for
the morrow's bloody work. Leaving their servant lying
fast ^asleep through sheer exhaustion, the two chaplains got
up at i a.m. and prepared the altar. Fr. Doyle said Mass
first and was served by Fr Browne, who, not having yet
made his Last Vows, renewed his Vows at the Mass, as he
always did at home on Corpus Christi. It was surely a
weird and solemn Renovation. While Fr. Browne unvested
after his own Mass and packed up the things, Fr. Doyle
and his servant (now awake) prepared breakfast. At 2.30
the two chaplains put on their battle kit and made for their
respective aid posts. Up near the front line, along the
hedgerows, the battalions of the 48th Brigade were massed
in support position. Their task was not to attack, but to
follow up and consolidate and, should need arise, to help
the leading brigades. "As I walked up to my post at the
advanced dressing station," says Fr. Doyle, " I prayed for
that peace of a perfect trust which seems to be so pleasing
to our Lord." And he repeated to himself the verses of a
little leaflet which a friend had sent to him when he first
became chaplain :

Oh ! for the peace of a perfect trust,

My loving God, in Thee ;
Unwavering" faith that never doubts
Thou choosest best for me.

In this spirit, in which he had so often schooled himself
during his years of spiritual struggle, he waited for the coming
crash of battle.

298 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

" It wanted half an hour," he continues, "to zero time —
the phrase used for the moment of attack. The guns had
ceased firing, to give their crews a breathing space before
the storm of battle broke ; for a moment at least there was
peace on earth and a calm which was almost more trying
than the previous roar to us who knew what was coming.
A prisoner told us that the enemy knew we were about to
attack, but did not expect it for another couple of days.
I pictured to myself our men, row upon row waiting in the
darkness for the word to charge, and on the other side the
Germans in their trenches and dug-outs, little thinking that
seven huge mines were laid under their feet, needing only
a spark to blow them into eternity. The tension of waiting
was terrific, the strain almost unbearable. One felt inclined
to scream out and send them warning. But all I could do
was to stand on top of the trench and give them Absolution,
trusting to God's mercy to speed it so far.

" Even now I can scarcely think of the scene which followed
without trembling with horror. Punctually to the sec6nd
at 3.10 a.m. there was a deep muffled roar ; the ground in
front of where I stood rose up, as if some giant had wakened
from his sleep and was bursting his way through the earth's
crust, and then I saw seven huge columns of smoke and
flames shoot hundreds of feet into the air, while masses of
clay and stones, tons in weight, were hurled about like
pebbles. I never before realized what an earthquake was
like, for not only did the ground quiver and shake, but
actually rocked backwards and forwards, so that I kept on
my feet with difficulty.

" Later on I examined one of the mine craters, an appalling
sight, for I knew that many a brave man, torn and burnt
by the explosion, lay buried there. If you expand very
considerably the old Dalkey quarry near the railway and
dig it twice as deep, you will have some idea of the size of
one of our mine craters, twenty of which were blown along
the front of our attack.

" Before the de"bris of the mines had begun to fall to earth,
the ' wild Irish ' were over the top of the trenches and on
the enemy, though it seemed certain they must be killed
to a man by the falling avalanche of clay. Even a stolid

WYTSCHAETE RIDGE 299

English Colonel standing near was moved to enthusiasm :
' My God ! ' he said, ' what soldiers ! They fear neither
man nor devil ! ' Why should they ? They had made their
peace with God. He had given them His own Sacred Body
to eat that morning, and they were going out now to face
death, as only Irish Catholic lads can do, confident of victory
and cheered by the thought that the reward of Heaven
was theirs. Nothing could stop such a rush, and so fast
was the advance that the leading files actually ran into the
barrage of our own guns, and had to retire.

" Meanwhile hell itself seemed to have been let loose.
With the roar of the mines came the deafening crash of our
guns, hundreds of them. This much I can say : never
before, even in this war, have so many batteries especially
of heavy pieces been concentrated on one objective, and
how the Germans were able to put up the resistance they
did was a marvel to everybody, for our shells fell like hail
stones. In a few moments they took up the challenge, and
soon things on our side became warm and lively.

" In a short time the wounded began to come in, and a
number of German prisoners, many of them wounded, also.
I must confess my heart goes out to these unfortunate
soldiers, whose sufferings have been terrific. I can't share
the general sentiment that ' they deserve what they get
and one better.' For after all are they not children of the
same loving Saviour Who said : ' Whatever you do to one
of these My least ones you do it to Me.' I try to show them
any little kindness I can, getting them a drink, taking off
the boots from smashed and bleeding feet, or helping to
dress their wounds, and more than once I have seen the
eyes of these rough men fill with tears as I bent over them,
or felt my hand squeezed in gratitude.

" My men did not go over in the first wave ; they were
held in reserve to move up as soon as the first objective
was taken, hold the position and resist any counter attack.
Most of them were waiting behind a thick sand-bag wall
not far from the advanced dressing station where I was,
which enabled me to keep an eye upon them.

' The shells were coming over thick and fast now, and at
last, what I expected and feared happened. A big ' crump ll

I. — 4 '2 shrapnel.

300 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

hit the wall fair and square, blew three men into the field
50 yards away, and buried five others who were in a small
dug-out. For a moment I hesitated, for the horrible sight
fairly knocked the ' starch ' out of me and a couple more
' crumps ' did not help to restore my courage.

" I climbed over the trench and ran across the open, as
abject a coward as ever walked on two legs, till I reached
the three dying men, and then the ' perfect trust ' came
back to me and I felt no fear. A few seconds sufficed to
absolve and anoint my poor boys, and I jumped to my feet,
only to go down on my face faster than I got up, as an express
train from Berlin roared by.

" The five buried men were calling for help, but the others
standing around seemed paralysed with fear, all save one
sergeant, whose language was worthy of the occasion and
rose to a noble height of sublimity. He was working like
a Trojan, tearing the sand-bags aside, and welcomed my
help with a mingled blessing and curse. The others joined
in with pick and shovel, digging and pulling, till the sweat
streamed from our faces, and the blood from our hands,
bu£ we got three of the buried men out alive, the other two
had been killed by the explosion.1

" Once again I had evidence of the immense confidence
our men have in the priest. It was quite evident they were
rapidly becoming demoralized, as the best of troops will
who have to remain inactive under heavy shell fire. Little
groups were running from place to place for greater shelter,
and the officers seemed to have lost control. I walked
along the line of men, crouching behind the sand-bag wall,
and was amused to see the ripple of smiles light up the
terrified lads' faces, (so many are mere boys) as I went by.
By the time I got back again the men were laughing and
chatting as if all danger was miles away, for quite unin
tentionally, I had given them courage by walking along

I. — Fr. Doyle did not forget his helper. A little later he was able to write : "You
may be interested to hear that the Sergeant of whom 1 spoke in my long letter ' him
of the ruddy language,' has beer, awarded the D.C.M. (Distinguished Conduct Medal),
the private's equivalent of the M.C. I told the Colonel of his coolness and fine work
in digging out the rive buried men, and recommended him for a decoration, which I
am glad to say was accepted at Head-Quarters. The poor chap is very proud of his
medal, which I told him he won by his eloquent language."

WYTSCHAETE RIDGE 30*

without my gas mask or steel helmet, both of which I had:
forgotten in my hurry.

" When the regiment moved forward, the Doctor and I
went with it. By this time the ' impregnable ' ridge was
in our hands and the enemy retreating down the far side.
I spent the rest of that memorable day wandering over the
battle field looking for the wounded, and had the happiness
of helping many a poor chap, for shells were flying about
on all sides."

"As I knew there was no chance of saying Mass next
morning, I had taken the precaution of bringing several'
Consecrated Particles with me, so that I should not be
deprived of Holy Communion. It was the Feast of Corpus
Christi and I thought of the many processions of the Blessed
Sacrament which were being held at that moment all over
the world. Surely there never was a stranger one than
mine that day, as I carried the God of Consolation in my
unworthy arms over the blood-stained battle field. There
was no music to welcome His coming save the scream of a
passing shell ; the flowers that strewed His path were the
broken, bleeding bodies of those for whom He had once
died; and the only Altar of Repose He could find was the
heart of one who was working for Him alone, striving in
a feeble way to make Him some return for all His love-
and goodness

" I shall make no attempt to describe the battle field.
Thank God, our casualties were extraordinarily light, but
there was not a yard of ground on which a shell had not
pitched, which made getting about very laborious, sliding
down one crater and climbing up the next, and also increased
the difficulty of finding the wounded.1

" Providence certainly directed my steps on two occasions
at least. I came across one young soldier horribly mutilated,
all his intestines hanging out, but quite conscious and able
to speak to me. He lived long enough to receive the Last
Sacraments, and died in peace. Later on in the evening
I was going in a certain direction when something made me

i. — As a result of having to wear his boots so continuously, Fr. Doyle was suffering
from very severe ' blood blisters ' on his feet. This must have made his climbing up
and down shell-holes an excruciating torture.

302 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

turn back when I saw in the distance a man being carried
on a stretcher. He belonged to the artillery, and had no
chance of seeing a priest for a long time, but he must have
been a good lad, for Mary did not forget him ' at the hour
of his death.'

" The things I remember best of that day of twenty-four
hours' work are : the sweltering heat, a devouring thirst
which comes from the excitement of battle, physical weak
ness from want of food, and a weariness and footsoreness
which I trust will pay a little at least of St. Peter's heavy
score against me."

The next two days, Friday and Saturday, were a repetition
of Thursday. Fighting was practically over, but guns were
being brought up and positions consolidated. Fr. Doyle
had little rest and plenty to do, and on at least one occasion
had a very narrow escape from an eight-inch shell. Early
on Sunday morning the exhausted Battalions were relieved.
After the battle the men marched back by easy stages to
the rear, and in a few days were settled down ' in quite a
nice part of France/ billeted in comfortable farmhouses for
a few weeks of rest and training — the only rest which was
allowed to the i6th Division in the two years and three
months that it was in the field.

(5.) His LAST SERMON.

The 48th Brigade was at rest or rather down for a rifle
shooting course near St. Omer. The 2nd and 8th Dublins
were in and around the little village of St. Martin au Laert
about a mile and a half from St. Omer, the gib. Dublins
about a mile distant in a country camp, and the R. I. Rifles
a little further away. The new Bishop of Arras, Boulogne
and St. Omer, Mgr. Julien, was to make his formal entry
into Arras on Saturday, 2Oth July, and to be present next
•day at the conclusion of the Novena to our Lady of Miracles
Through the instrumentality of Fr. Browne, with the ready
compliance of General Hickie, it was arranged that there
should be a church parade in honour of the Bishop on

HIS LAST SERMON 303

Sunday, 2ist. About 2,500 men came down. Fr. Browne
said Mass and Fr. Doyle preached. The ceremony, which
was most impressive and successful, has fortunately been
described in a letter of Fr. Browne's, which we are allowed
to reproduce :

" I arrived at the Cathedral about n o'clock (says
Fr. Browne), and was in despair to find that the Pontifical
High Mass was not yet finished. Our people are so punctual
and the French so regardless of time-tables that I was sure
there would be confusion and delay when our 2,000 Catholics
would begin to arrive. But it was not to be. Quietly and
wonderfully quickly the Mass ended, and the people went
out to watch the Bishop go back in procession to his house
close by. I was relieved to see that neither he nor any of
the priests unvested. Then Fr. Doyle and I had to try
to clear away the hundred or so people who remained and
the other hundred or so people who came wandering in for
the last Mass — which for the day was to be ours. ' Donnez
place, s'il vous plait, aux soldats qui vont arriver,'1 I went
round saying to everyone. They moved from the great
aisle and got into the side-chapels, leaving the transepts
and aisles free. Many refused to do this when with pious
exaggeration I said, ' Presque 3,000 soldats Irlandais vont
arriver tout a ]' heure.'2 And lo ! they were coming.
Through all the various doors they came, the Qth Dubs,
marching in by the great western door, the 8th Dubs, through
the beautiful southern door, through which St. Louis was the
first to pass just 700 years ago, the 2nd Dubs, coming into
the northern aisle and making their way up to the northern
transept. Rank after rank the men poured in until the
vast nave was one solid mass of khaki with the red caps of
General Hickie and his staff and the Brigadiers in front.
Then up the long nave at a quick clanking march came the
Guard of Honour. Every button of its men, every badge,
shone and shone again ; their belts were scrubbed till not
even the strictest inspection could reveal the slightest stain,
and their fixed bayonets only wanted the sun to show how
they could flash. Up they came, and with magnificent

I. — Make room, please, for the soldiers who are coming.
2. — About 3,000 Irish soldiers are just coming.

FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

precision took their places on either side of the altar. I
was just leaving the sacristy to begin Mass when I saw the
Bishop's procession arriving. He had promised to come
only after the sermon, but here he was at the beginning of
the ceremony, making everything complete. Of course, I
saw nothing, being engaged in saying Mass, but those who
did said it was a wonderful sight. The beautiful altar,
standing at the crossing of the transepts and backed by the
long arches of the apse and choir, was for the feast surrounded
by a lofty throne bearing the statue of our Lady of Miracles.
The sides were banked up high with palms ; then the Guard
of Honour standing rigidly in two lines on either side ; lastly
the Bishop in his beautiful purple robes on his throne. From
the pulpit Fr. Doyle directed the singing of the hymns, and
then, after the Gospel, he preached. I knew he could preach,
but I had hardly expected that anyone could speak as he
spoke then. First of all he referred to the Bishop's coming,
and very, very tactfully spoke of the terrible circumstances
of the time. Next he went on to speak of our Lady and the
Shrine to which we had come. Gradually the story was
unfolded ; he spoke wonderfully of the coming of the Old
Irish Brigade in their wanderings over the Low Countries.
It was here that he touched daringly, but ever so cleverly,
on Ireland's part in the war. Fighting for Ireland and not
fighting for Ireland, or rather fighting for Ireland through
another. Then he passed on to Daniel O'Connell's time as
a schoolboy at St. Omer and his visit to the Shrine. It
certainly was very eloquent. Everyone spoke most highly
of it afterwards, the men particularly, they were delighted.1

"After the sermon Mass went on. At the Sanctus I heard
the subdued order, ' Guard of Honour, 'shun ! ' There was
a click as rifles and feet came to position together. Then

I. — [The sermon appealed to the men by its more or less historical reference to the
Irish Brigade that had come there three hundred years before. The men of the 8th
Dublins declared that Fr. Doyle " ought to get into Jim Larkin's shoes ! " It appealed
to others for a different reason. General Ramsay (a Protestant) stated afterwards
that it was one of the most tactful and impressive sermons he had ever heard,
and General Hickie said that he was intensely pleased with the way in which
* dangerous ' topics had been handled without offending anyone. It certainly required
some diplomatic skill to appeal to Irish regiments in the British Army by evoking
memories of the Irish Brigade which fought against England. Nor was it easy, with
out hurting English susceptibilities, to convey the (act that the Irish soldiers who were
listening were righting for what they believed was Ireland's cause as well as Belgium's.
Fr. Doyle succeeded.]

HIS LAST SERMON 305

as the Bishop came from his throne to kneel before the altar,
twelve little boys in scarlet soutanes, with scarlet sashes
over their lace surplices, appeared with lighted torches and
knelt behind his Lordship. At the second bell came the
command, ' Guard of Honour, slope rifles ! ' And then as
I bent over the Host, I heard, ' Present arms ! ' There was
the quick click, click, click, and silence, till, as I genuflected,
from the organ-gallery rang out the loud clear notes of the
buglers sounding the General's Salute."

At the end of the Mass the Bishop in a neat little speech
thanked the men for the great honour they had paid him.
He was especially struck, he said, by the fact that most
of them had marched a long way (some nearly ten kilometres)
to attend, and he asked those of his flock who were present
to learn a lesson from the grand spirit and deep faith of the
Irish soldiers. The ceremony concluded by a march past,
with bands playing, in front of the Episcopal Palace. The
Bishop stood on the steps of his house, beaming as he replied
to the ' eyes right ' of each company as it passed him.

This last sermon of Fr. Doyle will serve as a final proof —
if such be needed — that the man, whose inner life has been
portrayed in previous chapters, was no awkward recluse or
unpractical pietist. He was full of lovable human qualities ;
especially conspicuous was his unselfish thoughtfulness which
always seemed so natural, so intertwined with playful
spontaneity, that one came to take it for granted. He had
a wonderful influence over others and knew how to win
the human heart because he had learnt the Master's secret
of drawing all to himself. He could, as we have just seen,
preach persuasively when occasion demanded ; but his real
sermon was his own life. And from this pulpit he spoke
alike to Protestants and Catholics. " For fifteen months,"
writes Dr. C. Buchanan (gth Sept., 1917), " Fr. Doyle and
I worked together out here, generally sharing the same
dug-outs and billets, so we became fast friends, I acting as
medical officer to his first Battalion. Often I envied him
his coolness and courage in the face of danger : for this
alone his men would have loved him, but he had other
sterling qualities, which we all recognised only too well.
He was beloved and respected, not only by those of his own

306 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

Faith, but equally by Protestants, to which denomination
I belong. To illustrate this — Poor Captain Eaton, before
going into action last September, asked Fr. Doyle to do
what was needful for him if anything happened to him, as
he should feel happier if he had a friend to bury him. Capt.
Eaton was one of many whom Fr. Doyle and I placed in their
last resting place with a few simple prayers. For his broad-
mindedness we loved him. He seldom if ever preached,
but he set us a shining example of a Christian life."1

A similar testimony is eloquently conveyed in a little
incident recorded by Fr. Doyle in a letter which he wrote
to his father on 25th July, 1917. He wrote it seated on a
comfortable roadside bank under a leafy hedge, listening,
during this intermezzo from the dreadful drama of war, to
the nightingales singing in the Bois de Rossignol near by.
" While I was writing," he says, " one of my men, belonging
to the Irish Rifles, of which I have charge also, passed by.
We chatted for a few minutes and then he went on, but
came back shortly with a steaming bowl of coffee which
he had bought for me. ' I am not one of your flock, Father,'
he said, ' but we have all a great liking for you.' And then
he added : ' If all the officers treated us as you do, our lives
would be different.' I was greatly touched by the poor
lad's thoughtfulness, and impressed by what he said : a
kind word often goes further than one thinks, and one loses
nothing by remembering that even soldiers are human
beings and have feelings like anyone else."

There lies the secret of Fr. Doyle's popularity — his
Christlike democracy. With him there was neither Jew nor
Gentile, neither officer nor private ; all were men, human
beings, souls for whom Christ died. Every man was equally
precious to him ; beneath every mud-begrimed unkempt
figure he discerned a human personality.2 He would risk
ten lives, if he had them, to bring help and comfort to a
dying soldier no matter who he was. Once he rushed up

I. — Once when Dr. Buchanan was unwell and there were no blankets to lie
upon in the damp dug-out, Fr. Doyle lay flat, face downwards, on the ground,
and made the doctor lie upon him.

2. — Hence too he often reverently gathered up in a handkerchief and buried
the remains of what had once enshrined a human soul.

HIS LAST SERMON 307

to a wounded Ulsterman and knelt beside him. "Ah,
Father," said the man, " I don't belong to your Church/'
" No," replied Fr Doyle, " but you belong to my God."
To Fr. Doyle all were, brothers to be ministered unto. " He
that will be first among you shall be your servant, even as
the Son of Man is not come to be ministered unto but to
minister, and to give His life a redemption for many."
(5. Matthew 20. 27.)

(6.) THE BATTLE OF YPRES.1

" We shall have desperate fighting soon," wrote Fr. Doyle
in a private letter dated 25th July, " but I have not the least
fear, on the contrary a great joy in the thought that I shall
be able to make a real offering of my life to God, even if
He does not think that poor life worth taking." To avoid
causing anxiety he said nothing to his father about the
impending battle until the first phase was over. On I2th
August he sent home his last letter, a long budget or diary
which will enable us to describe, chiefly in his own words,
the events which occurred up to that date.

By way of preface we shall first transcribe from the letter
a little story which, in spite of its humorous setting, has a
serious application to his own hard life. " Help comes to
one in strange ways," he writes, " and the remembrance
of a quaint old story has lightened for me the weight of a
heavy pair of boots over many a mile of muddy road. The
story may interest you :

" In the good old days of yore a holy hermit built him a
cell in a spot a few miles from the well, so that he might
have a little act of penance to offer to Almighty God each
day by tramping across the hot sand and back again with
his pitcher. All went gaily for a while, and if the holy
man did lose many a drop of honest sweat he knew he was
piling up sacks of treasure in Heaven, and his heart was
light. But — oh ! that little ' but ' which spoils so many
things — but though the spirit was willing, the sun was very

i. — See map on p. 223.

308 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

warm, the sand most provokingly hot, the pitcher the devil
and all of a weight, and the road seemingly longer each
day. ' It is a bit too much of a good joke/ thought the
man of God, ' to tramp these miles day in and day out,
with my old bones, clanking like a traction engine. Why
not move the cell to the edge of the water, save time (and
much bad language probably) and have cool water in
abundance, and a dry hair shirt on my back ? '

"Away home he faced for the last time with his brimming
water jar, kicking the sand about in sheer delight, for the
morrow would see him on the trek, and an end to his weary
trudging, when suddenly he heard a voice, an angel's voice
he knew it to be, counting slowly ' One, two, three, four.'
The hermit stopped in wonder and so did the voice, but
at the next steps he took the counting began again, ' Five,
six, seven.' Falling on his knees the old man prayed that
he might know the meaning of this wonder. ' I am the
angel of God,' came the answer, ' counting up each step
which long ago you offered up to my Lord and Master, so
that not a single one may lose its reward. Don't be so
foolish as to throw away the immense merit you are gaining,
by moving your cell to the water's edge, for know that in
the eyes of the heavenly court nothing is small which is
done or borne for the love of God.'

' That very night down came the hermit's hut, and before
morning broke he had built it again five miles further from
the well. For all I know he is merrily tramping still back
wards and forwards across the burning sand, very hot and
tired no doubt, but happy in the thought that the recording
angel is busy counting each step.

" I do not think I need point the moral. But I hope
and pray that my own good angel is strong at arithmetic,
and won't get mixed when he starts his long tot ! "

To understand this little parable is to understand much
of Fr. Doyle's life, his desire to emulate his angel guardian's
arithmetic as well as his inveterate habit of adding to, instead
of subtracting from, the ' hard things ' of life.

We can now begin his record of these last terrible
experiences.

THE BATTLE OF YPRES 309

joth July.

" For the past week we have been moving steadily up to
the Front once more to face the hardships and horrors of
another big push, which report says is to be the biggest
effort since the War began. The blood-stained Ypres battle
field is to be the centre of the fight, with our left wing running
down to the Belgian coast from which it is hoped to drive
the enemy and, perhaps, force him by a turning movement
to fall back very far.

" The preparations are on a colossal scale, the mass of men
and guns enormous. ' Success is certain ' our Generals tell
us, biit I cannot help wondering what are the plans of the
Great Leader, and what the result will be when He has issued
His orders. This much is certain : the fight will be a
desperate one, for our foe is not only brave, but clever and
cunning, as we have learned to our cost.

" Mass in the open this morning under a drizzling rain
was a trying if edifying experience. Colonel, officers and
men knelt on the wet grass with the water trickling off them,
while a happy if somewhat damp chaplain moved from
rank to rank giving every man Holy Communion. Poor
fellows : with all their faults God must love them dearly
for their simple faith and love of their religion, and for the
confident way in which they turn to Him for help in the
hour of trial.

" One of my converts, received into the Church last night,
made his First Holy Communion this morning under cir
cumstances he will not easily forget. I see in the paper
that 13,000 soldiers and officers have become Catholics
since the War began, but I should say this number is much
below the mark. Ireland's missionaries, the light-hearted
lads who shoulder a rifle and swing along the muddy roads,
have taught many a man more religion, by their silent
example, than he ever dreamed of before.1

" Many a time one's heart grows sick to think how few

I. — As I transcribe these words of Fr. Doyle, there lies before me a letter
from another chaplain: "The men are -wonderful — I ought to write it in
capitals— so cheerful and so patient amidst their very real sufferings. I refer to
the Irish element in the battalion, for there is a most marked difference in the
demeanour and conduct of the various groups. Now I need hardly ask the
origin of a particular group or individual ; the attitude of mind, body and lips
is sufficient for me."

310 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

will ever see home and country again, for their pluck and
daring have marked them down for the positions which
only the Celtic dash can take : a post of honour, no doubt,
but it means slaughter as well.1

" We moved off at 10 p.m., a welcome hour in one way,
as it means marching in the cool of the night instead of
sweating under a blazing sun. Still when one has put in
a long day of hard work, and legs and body are pretty well
tired out already, the prospect of a stiff march is not too
pleasant."

3ist July.

" It was 1.30 a.m. when our first halting place was reached,
and as we march again at three, little time was wasted
getting to sleep. It was the morning of July 3ist, the
Feast of St. Ignatius, a day dear to every Jesuit, but doubly
so to the soldier sons of the soldier saint. Was it to be
Mass or sleep ? Nature said sleep, but grace won the day,
and while the weary soldiers slumbered the Adorable Sacrifice
was offered for them, that God would bless them in the
coming fight and, if it were His Holy Will, bring them safely
through it. Mass and thanksgiving over, a few precious
moments of rest on the floor of the hut, and we have fallen
into line once more.

"As we do, the dark clouds are lit up with red and golden
flashes of light, the earth quivers with the simultaneous
crash of thousands of guns and in imagination we can picture
the miles of our trenches spring to life as the living stream
of men pours over the top — the Fourth Battle of Ypres
has begun.

" Men's hearts beat faster, and nerves seem to stretch
and vibrate like harp strings as we march steadily on ever
nearer and nearer towards the raging fight, on past battery
after battery of huge guns and howitzers belching forth
shells which ten men could scarcely lift, on past the growing
streams of motor ambulances, each with its sad burden of
broken bodies, the first drops of that torrent of wounded

i. — Fr. Doyle met his death in the next ' post of honour ' assigned to his Irish
flock in spite of what they had suffered during the previous day. On i6th
August the l6th Division made an advance along the Frezenberg ridge behind
Ypres, where English Divisions had already failed several times.

THE BATTLE OF YPRES 311

which will pour along the road. I fancy not a few were
wondering how long would it be till they were carried past
in the same way, or was this the last march they would
ever make till the final Roll Call on the Great Review Day.

" We were to be held in reserve for the opening stages of
the battle, so we lay all that day (the 3ist) in the open fields
ready to march at a moment's notice should things go badly
at the Front. Bit by bit news of the fight came trickling
in. The Jocks (i5th Scottish Division) in front of us, had
taken the first and second objective with little opposition,
and were pushing on to their final goal. All was going
well, and the steady stream of prisoners showed that for
once Dame Rumour was not playing false. Our spirits
rose rapidly in spite of the falling rain, for word reached
us that we were to return to the camp for the night as our
services would not be required. Then the sun of good news
began to set, and ugly rumours to float about.

' Whether it was the impetuous Celtic dash that won
the ground, or part of German strategy, the enemy centre
gave way while the wings held firm. This trick has been
played so often and so successfully one would imagine we
should not have been caught napping again, but the
temptation for victorious troops to rush into an opening
is almost too strong to be resisted, and probably the real
state of affairs on the wings was not known. The Scotties
reached their objective, only to find they were the centre
of a murderous fire from three sides, and having beaten off
repeated counter-attacks of the ' demoralized enemy ' were
obliged to retire some distance. So far the Germans had
not done too badly.

" It was nearly eight o'clock, and our dinner was simmering
in the pot with a tempting odour, when the fatal telegram
came : ' the battalion will move forward in support at once.'
I was quite prepared for this little change of plans having
experienced such surprises before, and had taken the
precaution of laying in a solid lunch early in the day. I
did not hear a single growl from anyone, though it meant
we had to set out for another march hungry and dinnerless,
with the prospect of passing a second night without sleep.
When I give my next nuns' retreat I think I shall try the

312 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

experiment of a few supperless and bedless nights on them,
just to see what they would say, and compare notes with
the soldiers. The only disadvantage would be that I should
be inundated with applications to give similar retreats in
other convents, everyone being so delighted with the
experiment, especially the good Mother Bursar who would
simply coin money !

" On the road once more in strict fighting kit, the clothes
we stood in, a rain coat, and a stout heart. A miserable
night with a cold wind driving the drizzling rain into our
faces and the ground underfoot being rapidly churned into
a quagmire of slush and mud. I hope the Recording Angel
will not be afraid of the weather and will not get as tired
of counting the steps as I did : ' Ten thousand and one,
ten thousand and two/ — a bit monotonous even with the
memory of the old hermit to help one.

' The road was a sight never to be forgotten. On one
side marched our column in close formation, on the other
galloped by an endless line of ammunition waggons, extra
guns hurrying up to the Front, and motor lorries packed
with stores of all kinds, while between the two flowed back
the stream of empties and ambulance after ambulance filled
with wounded and dying.

" In silence, save for the never ceasing roar of the guns
and the rumble of cart wheels, we marched on through the
city of the dead, Ypres, not a little anxious, for a shower
of shells might come at any minute. Ruin and desolation,
desolation and ruin, is the only description I can give of a
spot once the pride and glory of Belgium. The hand of
war has fallen heavy on the city of Ypres ; scarce a stone
remains of the glorious Cathedral and equally famous Cloth
Hall ; the churches, a dozen of them, are piles of rubbish,
gone are the convents, the hospitals and public buildings,
and though many of the inhabitants are still there, their
bodies lie buried in the ruins of their homes, and the smell
of rotting corpses poisons the air. I have seen strange
sights in the last two years, but this was the worst of all.
Out again by the opposite gate of this stricken spot, which
people say was not undeserving of God's chastisement, across
the moat and along the road pitted all over with half filled

THE BATTLE OF YPRES 313

in shell-holes. Broken carts and dead horses, with human
bodies too if one looked, lie on all sides, but one is too weary
to think of anything except how many more miles must
be covered

"A welcome halt at last with, perhaps, an hour or more
delay. The men were already stretched by the side of the
road, and I was not slow to follow their example. I often
used to wonder how anyone could sleep lying in mud or
water, but at that moment the place for sleep, as far as I
was concerned, did not matter two straws, a thorn bush,
the bed of a stream, anywhere would do to satisfy the longing
for even a few moments' slumber after nearly two days
and nights of marching without sleep. I picked out a soft
spot on the ruins of a home, lay down with a sigh of relief,
and then, for all I cared, all the King's guns and the Kaiser's
combined might roar till they were hoarse, and all the rain
in the heavens might fall, as it was falling then, I was too
tired and happy to bother.

:' I was chuckling over the disappearance of the officer
in front of me into a friendly trench from which he emerged
if possible a little more muddy than he was, when I felt
my two legs shoot from under me, and I vanished down the
sides of a shell-hole which I had not noticed. As I am not
making a confession of my whole life, I shall not tell you
what I said, but it was something different from the
exclamation of the pious old gentleman who used to mutter
' Tut, tut ' every time he missed the golf ball.

' The Head Quarters Staff found shelter in an old mine-
shaft, dark, foul-smelling, and dripping water which promised
soon to flood us out. Still it was some protection from the
down-pour outside, and I slept like a top for some hours
in a dry corner sitting on a coil of wire."

ist August.

" Morning brought a leaden sky, more rain, and no
breakfast ! Our cook with the rations had got lost during
the night, so there was nothing for it but to tighten one's
belt and bless the man (backwards) who invented eating.
But He Who feeds the birds of the air did not forget us,
and by mid-day we were sitting down before a steaming

314 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

tin of tea, bully beef and biscuits, a banquet fit to set before
an emperor after nearly twenty-four hours' fast. Not for
a moment during the whole of the day did the merciless
rain cease. The men, soaked to the skin and beyond it,
were standing up to their knees in a river of mud and water,
and like ourselves were unable to get any hot food till the
afternoon. Our only consolation was that our trenches were
not shelled and we had no casualties. Someone must have
had compassion on our plight, for when night fell a new
Brigade came in to relieve us, much to our surprise and
joy. Back to the camp we had left the previous night, one
of the hardest marches I ever put in, but cheered at the
thought of a rest. Once again we got through Ypres without
a shell, though they fell before and after our passing ; good
luck was on our side for once."

Here they remained for a couple of days, and it was during
this interval that Fr Doyle wrote the above little chronicle.
He resumed it on the morning of Sunday, i2th August.
" Dearest Father," he began, " when I finished writing the
last line I could not help asking myself should I ever continue
this little narrative of my adventures and experiences, for
we were under marching orders to make our way that night
to the Front Line, a series of shell holes in the ground won
from the enemy. To hold this we knew would be no easy
task, but I little thought of what lay before me, of the
thousand and one dangers I was to pass through unscathed,
or of the hardship and suffering which were to be crowded
into the next few days.

"It is Sunday morning, August I2th. We have just got
back to camp after (for me at least) six days and seven
continuous nights on the battle-field. There was no chance
last night of a moment's rest, and you may imagine there
was little sleep the previous nights either, sitting on a box
with one's feet in 12 inches of water. For the past forty-
eight hours we have lived, eaten and slept in a flooded
dug-out, which you left at the peril of your life, so you may
fancy what relief it was to change one's sodden muddy
clothes.

' Tired as I am, I cannot rest till I try to give you some
account of what has happened, for I know you must be

THE BATTLE OF YPRES 315

on the look-out for news of your boy, and also because my
heart is bursting to tell you of God's love and protection,
never so manifest as during this week.

" He has shielded me from almost countless dangers
with more than the tender care of an earthly mother — what
I have to say sounds in parts almost like a fairy tale — and
if He has tried my endurance, once at least almost to breaking
point, it was only to fill me with joy at the thought that
I ' was deemed worthy to suffer (a little) for Him.'

" I shall give you as simply as I can the principal
events of these exciting days as I jotted them down in my
note-book."

Before resuming the diary it is necessary to remark that
after the death of Fr Knapp (3ist July), Fr. Browne was
appointed chaplain to the 2nd Irish Guards. Hence from
2nd August till his death Fr. Doyle had the four Battalions
to look after, as no other priest had come to the 48th Brigade.
A certain priest had indeed been appointed as Fr. Browne's
successor by Fr. Rawlinson. But by some error the order
was brought to a namesake, who, on arriving at Poperinghe
and discovering the mistake, absolutely refused to have
anything to do with the battle. This will explain why
Fr. Doyle had such hard work and why he would not allow
himself any rest or relief.1 On i5th August, the day before
Fr. Doyle's death, Fr. Browne wrote to his brother (Rev.
W. F Browne, C.C.) :

" Fr. Doyle is a marvel. You may talk of heroes and
saints, they are hardly in it ! I went back the other day
to see the old Dubs, as I heard they were having, we'll say,
a taste of the War.

" No one has been yet appointed to my place, and
Fr. Doyle has done double work. So unpleasant were the
conditions that the men had to be relieved frequently.
Fr. Doyle had no one to relieve him and so he stuck to the
mud and the shells, the gas and the terror. Day after day
he stuck it out.

" I met the Adjutant of one of my two Battalions, who
previously had only known Fr. Doyle by sight. His first
greeting to me was : — ' Little Fr. Doyle ' — they all call him

I. — See p. 321.

316 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ

that, more in affection than anything else — ' deserves the
V.C. more than any man that ever wore it. We cannot
get him away from the line while the men are there, he is
with his own and he is with us. The men couldn't stick it
half so well if he weren't there. If we give him an orderly,
he sends the man back, he wears no tin hat, and he is always
so cheery/ Another officer, also a Protestant, said : ' Fr.
Doyle never rests. Night and day he is with us. He finds
a dying or dead man, does all, comes back smiling, makes
a little cross, and goes out to bury him, and then begins
all over again.'

" I needn't say, that through all this, the conditions of
ground, and air and discomfort, surpass anything that I
ever dreamt of in the worst days of the Somme."

We can now give the last fragment of Fr. Doyle's diary.

jth August.

"All day I have been busy hearing the men's confessions,
and giving batch after batch Holy Communion. A con
solation surely to see them crowding to the Sacraments,
but a sad one too, because I know for many of them it is
the last Absolution they will ever receive, and the next time
they meet our Blessed Lord will be when they see Him face
to face in Heaven."

And here — he was writing a week later — Fr. Doyle
interrupts his narrative by a spontaneous outburst of grief
for the loss of those whom he loved as ' his own children.'
" My poor brave boys ! " he exclaims. " They are lying
now out on the battle-field ; some in a little grave dug and
blessed by their chaplain, who loves them all as if they were
his own children ; others stiff and stark with staring eyes,
hidden in a shell-hole where they had crept to die ; while
perhaps in some far-off thatched cabin an anxious motheV
sits listening for the well-known step and voice which will
never gladden her ear again. Do you wonder in spite of
the joy that fills my heart that many a time the tears gather
in my eyes, as I think of those who are gone ? "

"As the men stand lined up on Parade, I go from company
to company giving a General Absolution which I know is
a big comfort to them, and then I shoulder my pack and

THE BATTLE OF YPRES 317

make for the train which this time is to carry us part of
our journey. ' Top end for Blighty, boys, bottom end
Berlin,' I tell them as they clamber in, for they like a cheery
word. ' If you're for Jerryland, Father, we're with you
too,' shouts one big giant, which is greeted with a roar of
approval and Berlin wins the day hands down.

" Though we are in fighting kit, there is no small load
to carry : a haversack containing little necessary things,
and three days' rations which consist of tinned corn beef,
hard biscuits, tea and sugar, with usually some solidified
methylated spirit for boiling water when a fire cannot be
lighted ; two full water-bottles ; a couple of gas-helmets
the new one weighing nine pounds, but guaranteed to keep
out the smell of the Old Boy himself ; then a waterproof
trench coat ; and in addition my Mass kit strapped on my
back on the off chance that some days at least I may be
able to offer the Holy Sacrifice on the spot where so many
men have fallen. My orderly should carry this, but I prefer
to leave him behind when we go into action, to which he
does not object. On a roasting hot day, tramping along
a dusty road or scrambling up and down shell-holes, the
extra weight tells. But then I think of my friend the hermit,
and the pack grows light and easy !

"As I marched through Ypres at the head of the column,
an officer ran across the road and stopped me : 'Are you a
Catholic priest ? ' he asked, ' I should like to go to Con
fession.' There and then, by the side of the road, while
the men marched by, he made his peace with God, and went
away, let us hope, as happy as I felt at that moment It
was a trivial incident, but it brought home vividly to me
what a priest was and the wondrous power given him by
God. All the time we were pushing on steadily towards
our goal across the battle-field of the previous week. Five
days almost continuous rain had made the torn ground
worse than any ploughed field, but none seemed to care as
so far not a shot had fallen near.

' We were congratulating ourselves on our good luck, when
suddenly the storm burst. Away along the front trenches
we saw the S;O.S. signal shoot into the air, two red and two
green rockets, telling the artillery behind of an attack and

3i8 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J

calling for support. There was little need to send any signal
as the enemy's guns had opened fire with a crash, and in a
moment pandemonium, in fact fifty of them were set loose.
I can but describe the din by asking you to start together
fifty first class thunder storms, though even then the swish
and scream, the deafening crash of the shells, would be
wanting.

" On we hurried in the hope of reaching cover which was
close at hand, when right before us the enemy started to
put down a heavy barrage, literally a curtain of shells, to
prevent re-inforcements coming up. There was no getting
through that alive and, to make matters worse, the barrage
was creeping nearer and nearer, only fifty yards away, while
shell fragments hummed uncomfortably close. Old shell-
holes there were in abundance, but every one of them was
brim full of water, and one would only float on top. Here
was a fix ! Yet somehow I felt that though the boat seemed
in a bad way, the Master was watching even while He seemed
to sleep, and help would surely come. In the darkness I
stumbled across a huge shell-hole crater, recently made,
with no water. Into it we rolled and lay on our faces, while
the tempest howled around and angry shells hissed overhead
and burst on every side. For a few moments I shivered
with fear, for we were now right in the middle of the barrage
and the danger was very great, but my courage came back
when I remembered how easily He Who had raised the
tempest saved His Apostles from it, and I never doubted
He would do the same for us. Not a man was touched,
though one had his rifle smashed to bits.

" We reached Head Quarters, a strong block house made
of concrete and iron rails, a master-piece of German clever
ness. From time to time all during the night the enemy
gunners kept firing at our shelter, having the range to a
nicety. Scores exploded within a few feet of it, shaking us
till our bones rattled ; a few went smash against the walls
and roof, and one burst at the entrance nearly blowing us
over, but doing no harm thanks to the scientific construction
of the passage. I tried to get a few winks of sleep on a stool,
there was no room to lie down with sixteen men in a
small hut. And I came to the conclusion that so far we

THE BATTLE OF YPRES 319

had not done badly and there was every promise of an
exciting time."

6th August.

" The following morning, though the Colonel and other
officers pressed me very much to remain with them on the
ground that I would be more comfortable, I felt I could
do better work at the advanced dressing-station, or rather
aid-post, and went and joined the doctor. It was a
providential step and saved me from being the victim of an
extraordinary accident. The following night a shell again
rushed into the dug-out severely burning some and almost
suffocating all the officers and men, fifteen in number, with
poisonous fumes before they made their escape. Had I been
there, I should have shared the same fate, so you can imagine
what I felt as I saw all my friends carried off to hospital,
possibly to suffer ill effects for life, while I by the merest
chance was left behind well and strong to carry on God's
work. I am afraid you will think me ungrateful, but more
than once I almost regretted my escape, so great had been
the strain of these past days now happily over.

" For once getting out of bed (save the mark) was an
easy, in fact, delightful task, for I was stiff and sore from
my night's rest. My first task was to look round and see
what were the possibilities for Mass. As all the dug-outs
were occupied if not destroyed or flooded, I was delighted
to discover a tiny ammunition store which I speedily con
verted into a chapel, building an altar with the boxes. The
fact that it barely held myself did not signify as I had no
server and had to be both priest and acolyte, and in a way
I was not sorry I could not stand up, as I was able for once
to offer the Holy Sacrifice on my knees.

" It is strange that out here a desire I have long cherished
should be gratified, viz. : to be able to celebrate alone,
taking as much time as I wished without inconveniencing
anyone. I read long ago in the Acts of the Martyrs of
a captive priest, chained to the floor of the Coliseum, offering
up the Mass on the altar of his own bare breast, but apart
from that, Mass that morning must have been a strange
one in the eyes of God's angels, and I trust not unacceptable
to Him. Returning to the dressing-station, I refreshed the

320 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

inner man in preparation for a hard day's work. You may
be curious to know what an aid-post is like. Get out of
your mind all ideas of a clean hospital ward, for our first
aid dressing-station is any place, as near as possible to the
fighting line, which will afford a little shelter — a cellar, a
coal hole, sometimes even a shell-hole. Here the wounded
who have been roughly bandaged on the field are brought
by the stretcher bearers to be dressed by the doctor. Our
aid-post was a rough tin shed built beside a concrete dug-out
which we christened the Pig Sty. You could just crawl
in on hands and knees to the solitary chamber which served
as a dressing room, recreation hall, sleeping apartment and
anything else you cared to use it for. One could not very
well sit up much less stand in our chateau, but you could
stretch your legs and get a snooze if the German shells
and the wounded men let you. On the floor were some
wood-shavings, kept well moistened in damp weather by a
steady drip from the ceiling, and which gave covert to a
host of curious little creatures, all most friendly and
affectionate. There was room for three but as a rule we
slept six or seven officers side by side. I had the post of
honour next the wall, which had the double advantage of
keeping me cooj. and damp, and of offering a stout resistance
if anyone wanted to pinch more space, not an easy task,
you may well conclude.

" I spent a good part of the day, when not occupied with
the wounded, wandering round the battle-field with a spade
to bury stray dead. Though there was not very much
infantry fighting owing to the state of the ground, not for
a moment during the week did the artillery duel cease,
reaching at times a pitch of unimaginable intensity, I have
been through some hot stuff at Loos, and the Somme was
warm enough for most of us, but neither of them could
compare to the fierceness of the German fire here. For
example, we once counted fifty shells, big chaps too, whizzing
over our little nest in sixty seconds, not counting those that
burst close by. In fact you became so accustomed to it
all that you ceased to bother about them, unless some battery
started ' strafing ' your particular position when you began
to feel a keen personal interest in every new comer. I have

THE BATTLE OF YPRES 321

walked about for hours at a time getting through my work,
with ' crumps ' of all sizes bursting in dozens on every side.
More than once my heart has nearly jumped out of my mouth
from sudden terror, but not once during all these days have
I had what I could call a narrow escape, but always a strange
confident feeling of trust and security in the all powerful
protection of our Blessed Lord. You will see before the end
that my trust was not misplaced. All the same I am not
foolhardy nor do I expose myself to danger unnecessarily,
the coward is too strong in me for that ; but when duty-
calls I know I can count on the help of One Who has never
failed me yet."

jih August.

" No Mass this morning, thanks, I suppose, to the kindly
attention of the evil one. I reached my chapel of the previous
morning only .to find that a big 9-5 inch shell had landed
on the top of it during the day ; went away feeling very
grateful I had not been inside at the time, but had to abandon
all thought of Mass as no shelter could be found from the
heavy rain.

" The Battalion went out to-day for three days' rest, but
I remained behind. Fr. Browne has gone back to the Irish
Guards. He is a tremendous loss, not only to myself
personally, but to the whole Brigade where he did magnificent
work and made a host of friends. And so I was left alone.
Another chaplain was appointed, but for reasons best known
to himself he did not take over his battalion and let them
go into the fight alone. There was nothing for it but to
remain on and do his work, and glad I was I did so, for many
a man went down that night, the majority of whom I was
able to anoint.

" Word reached me about mid-night that a party of men
had been caught by shell fire nearly a mile away. I dashed
off in the darkness, this time hugging my helmet as the
enemy was firing gas shells. A moment's pause to absolve
a couple of dying men, and then I reached the group of
smashed and bleeding bodies, most of them still breathing.
The first thing I saw almost unnerved me ; a young soldier
lying on his back, his hands and face a mass of blue

322 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

phosphorus flame, smoking horribly in the darkness. He
was the first victim I had seen of the new gas the Germans
are using, a fresh horror in this awful war. The poor lad
recognized me, I anointed him on a little spot of unburnt
flesh, not a little nervously, as the place was reeking with
gas, gave him a drink which he begged for so earnestly,
and then hastened to the others.

" Back again to the aid-post for stretchers and help to
carry in the wounded, while all the time the shells are coming
down like hail. Good God ! how can any human thing
live in this ? As I hurry back I hear that two men have
been hit twenty yards away. I am with them in a moment,
splashing through mud and water. A quick absolution and
the last rites of the Church. A flash from a gun shows me
that the poor boy in my arms is my own servant, or rather
one who took the place of my orderly while he was away,
a wonderfully good and pious lad.

" By the time we reached the first party, all were dead,
most of them with charred hands and faces. One man
with a pulverized leg was still living. I saw him off to
hospital made as comfortable as could be, but I could not
help thinking of his torture as the stretcher jolted over the
rough ground and up and down the shell holes.

" Little rest that night, for the Germans simply pelted
us with gas shells of every description, which, however
thanks to our new helmets, did no harm "

8th August.

There is little to record during the next couple of days
except the discovery of a new cathedral and the happiness
of daily Mass. This time I was not quite so well off, as I
could not kneel upright and my feet were in the water which
helped to keep the fires of devotion from growing too warm.
Having carefully removed an ancient German leg, I managed
to vest by sitting on the ground, a new rubric I had to
introduce also at the Communion, as otherwise I could not
have emptied the Chalice. I feel that when I get home
again I shall be absolutely miserable because everything
will be so clean and dry and comfortable. Perhaps some

THE BATTLE OF YPRES 323

kind friend will pour a bucket or two of water over my bed
occasionally to keep me in good spirits.

" When night fell, I made my way up to a part of the
Line which could not be approached in daylight, to bury
an officer and some men. A couple of grimy, unwashed
figures emerged from the bowels of the earth to help me,
but first knelt down and asked for Absolution. They then
leisurely set to work to fill in the grave. ' Hurry up, boys,'
I said, ' I don't want to have to bury you as well/ for the
spot was a hot one. They both stopped working much to
my disgust, for I was just longing to get away. ' Be gobs,
Father,' replied one, ' I haven't the divil a bit of fear in
me now after the holy Absolution.' ' Nor I,' chimed in the
other, ' I am as happy as a king.' The poor Padre who had
been keeping his eye on a row of ' crumps ' which were coming
unpleasantly near felt anything but happy ; however there
was nothing for it but to stick it out as the men were in a
pious mood ; and he escaped at last, grateful that he was
not asked to say the rosary."

loth August.

"A sad morning as casualties were heavy and many men
came in dreadfully wounded. One man was the bravest I
ever met. He was in dreadful agony, for both legs had been
blown off at the knee But never a complaint fell from his
lips, even while they dressed his wounds, and he tried to
make light of his injuries. ' Thank God, Father,' he said,
' I am able to stick it out to the end. Is it not ail for little
Belgium ? ' The Extreme Unction, as I have noticed time
and again, eased his bodily pain. ' I am much better now
and easier, God bless you,' he said, as I left him to attend
a dying man. He opened his eyes as I knelt beside him :
'Ah ! Fr. Doyle, Fr. Doyle,' he whispered faintly, and then
motioned me to bend lower as if he had some message to
give. As I did so, he put his two arms round my neck and
kissed me. It was all the poor fellow could do to show his
gratitude that he had not been left to die alone and that
he would have the consolation of receiving the Last
Sacraments before he went to God. Sitting a little way off
I saw a hideous bleeding object, a man with his face smashed

324 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

by a shell, with one if not both eyes torn out. He raised
his head as I spoke. ' Is that the priest ? Thank God,
I am all right now.' I took his blood-covered hands in mine
as I searched his face for some whole spot on which to anoint
him. I think I know better now why Pilate said ' Behold
the Man ' when he showed our Lord to the people.

" In the afternoon, while going my rounds, I was forced
to take shelter in the dug-out of a young officer belonging
to another regiment. For nearly two hours I was a prisoner
and found out he was a Catholic from Dublin, and had been
married just a month. Was this a chance visit, or did God
send me there to prepare him for death, for I had not long
left the spot when a shell burst and killed him ? I carried
his body out the next day and buried him in a shell hole,
and once again I blessed that protecting Hand which had
shielded me from his fate.

" That night we moved head quarters and aid-post to a
more advanced position, a strong concrete emplacement, but
a splendid target for the German gunners. For the forty-
eight hours we were there they hammered us almost
constantly day and night till I thought our last hour had
come. There we lived with a foot, sometimes more, of water
on the floor, pretty well soaked through, for it was raining
hard at times. Sleep was almost impossible — fifty shells a
minute made some noise — and to venture out without
necessity was foolishness. We were well provided with
tinned food, and a spirit lamp for making hot tea, so that
we were not too badly off, and rather enjoyed hearing the
German shells hopping off the roof or bursting on the walls
of their own strong fort."

i ith August.

" Close beside us I had found the remains of a dug-out
which had been blown in the previous day and three men
killed. I made up my mind to offer up Mass there for the
repose of their souls. In any case ' I did not know a better
'ole to go to,' and to this little act of charity I attribute
the saving of my life later on in the day. I had barely
fitted up my altar when a couple of shells burst overhead,
sending the clay tumbling down For a moment I felt very

THE BATTLE OF YPRES 325

tempted not to continue as the place was far from safe.
But later I wa? glad I went on for the Holy Souls certainly
came to my aid as I did to theirs.

" I had finished breakfast and had ventured a bit down
the trench to find a spot to bury some bodies left lying there.
I had reached a sheltered corner, when I heard the scream
of a shell coming towards me rapidly, and judging by the
sound, straight for the spot where I stood. Instinctively
I crouched down, and well I did so, for the shell whizzed
past my head — I felt my hair blown about by the hot air —
and burst in front of me with a deafening crash. It seemed
to me as if a heavy wooden hammer had hit me on the top
of the head, and I reeled like a drunken man, my ears ringing
with the explosion. For a moment I stood wondering how
many pieces of shrapnel had hit me, or how many legs and
arms I had left, and then dashed through the thick smoke
to save myself from being buried alive by the shower of
falling clay which was rapidly covering me. I hardly know
how I reached the dug-out for I was speechless and so badly
shaken that.it was only by a tremendous effort I was able
to prevent myself from collapsing utterly as I had seen so
many do from shell shock. Then a strange thing happened :
something seemed to whisper in my ear, one of those sudden
thoughts which flash through the mind : ' Did not that
shell come from the hand of God ? He willed it should be
so. Is it not a proof that He can protect you no matter
what the danger ? '

" The thought that it was all God's doing acted like a
tonic ; my nerves calmed down, and shortly after I was
out again to see could I meet another iron friend. As a
matter of fact I wanted to see exactly what had happened,
for the report of a high explosive shell is so terrific that one
is apt to exaggerate distances. An officer recently assured
me he was only one foot from a bursting shell, when in reality
he was a good 40 yards away. You may perhaps find it
hard to believe, as I do myself, what I saw. I had been
standing by a trellis work of thin sticks. By stretching
out my hand I could touch the screen, and the shell fell
smashing the woodwork. ! My escape last year at Loos was
wonderful, but then I was some yards away, and partly

326 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

protected by a bend in the trench. Here the shell fell, I
might say, at my very feet ; there was no bank, no protection
except the wall of your good prayers and the protecting
arm of God.

" That night we were relieved, or rather it was early
morning, 4.30 a.m., when the last company marched out.
I went with them so that I might leave no casualties behind.
We hurried over the open as fast as we could, floundering
in the thick mud, tripping over wires in the darkness, and,
I hope, some of the lay members cursing the German gunners
for disturbing us by an odd shot. We had nearly reached
the road, not knowing /it was a marked spot when like a
hurricane a shower of shells came smashing down upon us.
We were fairly caught and for once I almost lost hope of
getting through in safety. For five minutes or more we
pushed on in desperation ; we could not stop to take shelter,
for dawn was breaking and we should have been seen by the
enemy. Right and left in front and behind, some far away,
many very close, the shells kept falling Crash ! One has
pitched in the middle of the line, wounding five men, none
of them seriously. Surely God is good to us, for it seems
impossible a single man will escape unhurt, and then when
the end seemed at hand, our batteries opened fire with a
roar to support an attack that was beginning The German
guns ceased like magic, or turned their attention elsewhere,
and we scrambled on to the road and reached home without
further loss."

(7.) THE END.

This was the end of Fr. Doyle's diary. There followed
just this last message to his Father, so pathetic in the light
of his death two days later : "I have told you all my escapes,
dearest Father, because I think what I have written will
give you the same confidence which I feel, that my old arm
chair up in Heaven is not ready yet, and I do not want yon
to be uneasy about me. I am all the better for these couple
of days' rest, and am quite on my fighting legs again. Leave
will be possible very shortly, I think, so I shall only say
au revoir in view of an early meeting. Heaps of love to

THE END 327

every dear one. As ever, dearest Father, your loving son,
Willie. 14/8/17." Before this letter had reached home, the
great Leave Day had come for Willie Doyle. He was called
Home. " Blessed are the dead? who die in the Lord. From
henceforth now, saith the spirit, that they may rest from their
labours, for their works follow them." (Apoc. 14. 13.)

The recital, which has just been given, of Fr. Doyle's
superhuman exertions and hairbreadth escapes, has made
it abundantly clear that only by some continuous miracle
could he hope to survive another such advance. It came
next day, the i5th, when once more the Irish troops were
moved up through and beyond Ypres. Here on the dawn
of Thursday, i6th August, the front line from St. Julien
to the Roulers railway south of Frezenberg was held by
Irishmen waiting for the order to advance. Every
insignificant rise in the undulating Flemish farmlands in
front of them was crowned by a German post ; there were
several strong ' pill-boxes ' (concrete blockhouses) and in the
middle of the line of attack a spur (Hill 35) dominated every
approach. It was these redoubts — especially Borry Farm
Redoubt with its sixty expert gunners and five machine-
guns — which frustrated all attempts of the Irish infantry.
Moreover, no supporting waves came up for no living beings
could get through the transverse fire of the German machine-
guns. And so when the German counterattack was launched
in the afternoon, the Rifles, the Dublins, and the Inniskillings
had to retire, taking with them what wounded they could.
Many groups were surrounded and cut off or had to fight
their way back in the night.1

Fr. Doyle was speeding ail day hither and thither over
the battlefield like an angel of mercy ; his words of Absolution
were the last words heard on earth by many an Irish lad
that day, and the stooping figure of priest and father, seen
through blinding blood, filled the glance of many in
their agony. Perhaps once more some speechless youth
ebbing out his life's blood, kissed his beloved padre, or by
a silent handshake bade farewell to the father of his soul.
"Ah, Father Doyle, Father Doyle." " Is that the priest ?

I. — In the fourth battle of Ypres, from 3ist July to i6th August, the i6th
Division lost 230 officers and 4,370 other ranks.

328 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

Thank God, I am all right now." "Ah, Father is that you ?
Thanks be to God for His goodness in sending you ; my
heart was sore to die without the priest." . . . All the
little stories come back to us as we try to reconstruct that
last great day of priestly ministry and sacrifice. We shall
never know here below, for towards the evening of that
heroic day Fr. Doyle died a martyr of charity. The great
dream which had haunted him for a lifetime had come true ;
he shed his blood while working for Christ. " Greater love
than this no man hath, that a man lay down his life for his
friends." (5. John 15. 13.) " The good shepherd giveth
his life for his sheep." (S. John 10. n.)

Few authentic details can be gathered concerning that
day of carnage and confusion, especially as the troops were
retiring from ground which was not finally occupied until
about six weeks later after severe fighting. What little is
known may be recounted from letters and newspaper
reports.1 Here are a few tributes from war correspondents :

"All through the worst hours an Irish padre went about
among the dead and dying giving Absolution to his boys.
Once he came back to head quarters, but he would not take
a bite of food or stay, though his friends urged him. He
went back to the field to minister to those who were glad
to see him bending over them in their last agony. Four
men were killed by shell fire as he knelt beside them, and he

i. — The best substantiated account is this. Fr. Doyle had been engaged
from early morning in the front line, cheering and consoling his men, and
attending to the many wounded. Soon after 3 p.m. he made his way back to
the Regimental Aid Post which was in charge of a Corporal Raitt, the doctor
having gone back to the rear some hours before. Whilst here word came in
that an officer of the Dublins had been badly hit, and was lying out in an
exposed position. Fr. Doyle at once decided to go out to him, and left the Aid
Post with his runner, Private Mclnespie, and a Lieutenant Grant. Some
twenty minutes' later, at about a quarter to four, Mclnespie staggered into the
Aid Post and fell down in a state of collapse from shell shock. Corporal Raitt
went to his assistance and after considerable difficulty managed to revive him.
His first words on coming back to consciousness were: "Fr. Doyle has been
killed ! " Then bit by bit the whole story was told. Fr. Doyle had found the
wounded officer lying far out in a shell crater. He crawled out to him, absolved
and anointed him, and then, half dragging, half carrying the dying man,
managed to get him within the line. Three officers came up at this moment,
and Mclnespie was sent for some water. This he got and was handing it to
Fr. Doyle when a shell burst in the midst of the group, killing Fr. Doyle and
the three officers instantaneously, and hurling Mclnespie violently to the
ground. Later in the day some of the Dublins when retiring came across the
bodies of all four. Recognising Fr. Doyle, they placed hint and a Private
Meehan, whom they were carrying back dead, behind a portion of the
Frezenberg Redoubt and covered the bodies with sods and stones.

THE END 329

was not touched — not touched until his own turn came.
A shell burst close by, and the padre fell dead."

(Sir Philip Gibbs in the Daily Chronicle and the Daily
Telegraph ; also in his book From Bapaume to Passchendaele,
1917, p. 254.)

" The Orangemen will not forget a certain Roman Catholic
chaplain who lies in a soldier's grave in that sinister plain
beyond Ypres. He went forward and back over the battle
field with bullets whining about him, seeking out the dying
and kneeling in the mud beside them to give them Absolution,
walking with death with a smile on his face, watched by his
men with reverence and a kind of awe until a shell burst
near him and he was killed. His familiar figure was seen
and welcomed by hundreds of Irishmen who lay in that
bloody place Each time he came back across the field
he was begged to remain in comparative safety. Smilingly
he shook his head and went again into the storm. He had
been with his boys at Ginchy and through other times of
stress, and he would not desert them in their agony.1 They
remember him as a saint — they speak his name with tears."

(Percival Phillips in the Daily Express and also the Morning
Post, 22nd August, 1917.)

" Many tales of individual gallantry are told ; two
instances especially which should be recorded ; one being
that of an officer of the Royal Army Medical Corps attached
to the Leinsters, who spent five hours in circumstances of
the greatest danger tending the wounded, and behaving in
all ways with consummate heroism ; and the other that of
a Roman Catholic chaplain who went up with the men,
sustained and cheered them to the last, till he was killed."

(The Times, 22nd August, 1917.)

The following passage is from a letter of General Hickie
written to a friend on i8th Nov.; 1917.

" Fr. Doyle was one of the best priests I have ever met,
and one of the bravest men who have fought or worked
out here. He did his duty, and more than his duty, most
nobly, and has left a memory and a name behind him that

I. — Compare what Dom Bede Camm says of Fr. B. Kavanagh, C.S.S R. :
" He was warned not to go where he did, for the danger was too great, but he
said, ' If my boys can go there, so can I.' " — Dublin Review, vol. 165, 1919, p. 62.

330 . FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

will never be forgotten. On the day of his death, i6th
August, he had worked in the front line, and even in front
of that line, and appeared to know no fatigue — he never
knew fear. He was killed by a shell towards the close of
the day, and was buried on the Frezenberg Ridge. . . .
He was recommended for the Victoria Cross by his
Commanding Officer, by his Brigadier, and by myself.
Superior Authority, however, has not granted it, and as no
other posthumous reward is given, his name will, I believe,
be mentioned in the Commander-in- Chief 's Despatch. . . .
I can say without boasting that this is a Division of brave
men ; and even among these, Fr. Doyle stood out "

Though Fr Doyle cared nothing for human decoration? —
it was another Commander-in-Chief under Whom he served —
it seems right to chronicle this judgement of others and to
record the fact that he was recommended for the D.S.O.
at Wytschaete and the V.C. at Frezenberg. However the
triple disqualification of being an Irishman, a Catholic and
a Jesuit, proved insuperable.1

On I5th December, 1917, General Hickie, having discovered
Mr. Doyle's address, paid another tribute : "I could not
say too much about your son," he wrote. " He was loved
and reverenced by us all ; his gallantry, self-sacrifice, and
devotion to duty were all so well known and recognized.
I think that his was the most wonderful character that I
have ever known."

" Strong Point 13 and the little dug-out of the brave padre
rise before me as I write," says an Irish officer in the Catholic
News (i5th September, 1917.) " I recall the early Mass
when our battalion was in reserve. Often have I knelt at
the impromptu altar serving that Mass for the padre in the
upper barn, hail, rain, and snow blowing in gusts through
the shell-torn roof. He knew no fear. As company officers,
how many times have we accompanied him through the
front line system to speak a word to the men. Well do we

I.— A soldier, knowing what Father Knapp and Father Gwynn had done, once
asked his chaplain : " Aren't our priests, Father, forbidden to take the V.C. ? ! "
Even before the Frezenberg action Fr. Doyle was_ reputed by the officers to have
earned the V.C. Thus Lieut. Galvin, writing home 'on I4th August, 1917, says : " If
ever a man earned the V.C. in this war, it is Father Doyle. He i:> simply splendid.
He comes up every night under heavy shell-fire, burying the dead and binding the
wounded and cheering the men. I wish to heavens we had a few doctors like him."

THE END 331

remember when at long last we went back for rest and
training, how our beloved padre did the long three days'
march at the head of the battalion.

" Which of the men do not recall with a tear and a smile
how he went ' over the top ' at Wytschaete ? He lived with
us in our newly- won position, and endured our hardships
with unfailing cheerfulness. In billets he was an ever
welcome visitor to the companies, and our only trouble was
that he could not always live with whatever company he
might be visiting.

" Ypres sounded the knell. Recommended for the D.S.O.
for Wytschaete, he did wonderful work at Ypres, and was
recommended for the V.C Many a dying soldier on that
bloody field has flashed a last look of loving recognition as
our brave padre rushed to hi? aid, braving the fearful barrage
and whistling machine-gun bullets, to give his boy a last
few words of hope."

" He was one of the finest fellows I ever met," wrote
Lt.-Col. H. R. Stirke (commanding the 8th Dublins) on I3th
September, 1917, " utterly fearless, always with a cheery
word on his lips, and ever ready to go out and attend the
wounded and dying under the heaviest fire. He was
genuinely loved by everyone, and thoroughly deserved the
unstinted praise he got from all ranks for his rare pluck
and devotion to duty,"

In its own way the following generous appreciation by a
Belfast Orangeman is rather unique. It was published in
the Glasgow Weekly News of ist September, 1917 :

" Fr. Doyle was a good deal among us. We couldn't
possibly agree with his religious opinion, but we simply
worshipped him for other things. He didn't know the
meaning of fear, and he didn't know what bigotry was. He
was as ready to risk his life to take a drop of water to
a wounded Ulsterman as to assist men of his own faith and
regiment. If he risked his life in looking after Ulster
Protestant soldiers once, he did it a hundred times in the
last few days. . . . The Ulstermen felt his loss more
keenly than anybody, and none were readier to show their
marks of respect to the dead hero priest than were our Ulster
Presbyterians. Fr. Doyle was a true Christian in every

332 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE. S.J.

sense of the word, and a credit to any religious faith. He
never tried to get things easy. He was always sharing the
risks of the men, and had to be kept in restraint by the staff
for his own protection. Many a time have I seen him walk
beside a stretcher trying to console a wounded man with
bullets flying around him and shells bursting every
few yards."

"He never tried to get things easy"— words conveying
a truth deeper than this Ulster soldier could realise ! May
we not reverently recall S. Paul's sentence : " Having joy
set before Him, He endured the cross " ? (Hebr. 12. 2.)

A similar tribute was paid by Sergeant T. Flynn, Dublin
Fusiliers, in a letter written home and published in the
Irish News, 2Qth August, 1917 :

" We had the misfortune to lose our chaplain, Fr. Doyle,
the other day. He was a real saint and would never leave
his men, and it was really marvellous to see him burying
dead soldiers under terrible shell fire. He did not know
what fear was, and everybody in the battalion, Catholic
and Protestant alike, idolised him. I went to Confession
to him and received Holy Communion from him a day or
two before he was killed, and I feel terribly sorry after him.

" He loved the men and spent every hour of his time
looking after them, and when we were having a fairly hot
time in the trenches he would bring us up boxes of cigarettes
and cheer us up. The men would do anything he asked
them, and I am sure we will never get another padre like
him. Everybody says that he has earned the V.C. many
times over, and I can vouch for it myself from what I have
seen him do many a time. He was asked not to go into
action with the battalion, but he would not stop behind,
and I am confident that no braver or holier man ever fell
in battle than he."

An even more convincing testimony was borne by a Fusilier
who happened to be home in Dublin on leave at the time
of Fr. Doyle's death. Meeting a friend who told him the
news, he kept repeating incredulously : " He's not dead.
He couldn't be killed ! " When at last he was shown a
paper describing the padre's death, the poor fellow knelt
down on the pavement and began to pray. Then to the
crowd which gathered round him he recounted how, when

THE END 333

he was lying wounded in an exposed position and expecting
every moment to be killed by a shell, Fr. Doyle had crept
out to him and carried him to a place of safety.1

The good sisters of St. Anthony's Institute, Locre, who
had always been so kind to Fr. Doyle, were anxious to have
his remains, not realising the circumstances of his death.
The Superioress wrote to Fr. Browne a touching little note
on 2ist August :

" What very sad news I have received ! Our good brave
holy Fr. Doyle has been killed ! Compassionate Lord Jesus
give him eternal rest ! Rev. Fr Browne will accept my
condolence, my feelings of sympathy in the great loss of
our good Fr. Doyle, your confrere. Notre petit saint, he
has now received his recompense for his holy life, his great
love for God and neighbour. Oh ! he was so much loved
by everybody and we shall never forget him. We are all
very glad to have had him with us in the convent and to
have made his life as comfortable as possible. Were it not
possible Rev. Fr. to bring his holy body to the convent ?
It were a great honour to us to have it."

Fr. Browne himself, who had been with Fr Doyle in
Clongowes and Belvedere, who had, above all, been so-
intimately associated with him in their joint mission to the
48th Brigade, expressed his grief and his esteem in a letter,
written on 20th August, from which a passage may be
-quoted :

"All during these last months he was my greatest help,
and to his saintly advice, and still more to his saintly example,
I owe everything I felt and did. With him, as with others
of us, his bravery was no mere physical show-off. He was
afraid and felt fear deeply, how deeply few can realise. And
yet the last word said of him to me by the Adjutant of the
Royal Irish Rifles in answer to my question, ' I hope you
are taking care of Fr. Doyle ? ', was, ' He is as fond of the
shells as ever.' His one idea was to do God's work with the
men, to make them saints. How he worked and how he

I. — After Fr. Doyle's death some of the men of the 8th Dublins expressed their
appreciation in verses whose untutored genuineness will excuse all literary short
comings. The first stanza runs thus :

He is gone from amongst us, may his soul rest above,
The pride of our regiment whom every man loved,
His life's work is o'er, he has finished his toil,
So may God rest the soul of our brave Father Doyle.

334 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S J.

prayed for this ! Fine weather and foul he was always
thinking of them and what he could do for them. In the
cold winter he would not use the stove I bought for our
dug-out. He scoffed at the idea as making it ' stuffy '-
and that when the thermometer was fifteen to twenty degrees
below zero, the coldest ever known in living memory here.
And how he loathed it all, the life and everything it implied !
And yet nobody suspected it. God's Will was his law. And
to all who remonstrated, ' Must I not be about the Lord's
business ? ' was his laughing answer in act and deed and
not merely in word. May he rest in peace — it seems super
fluous to pray for him."

There once more we have Fr. Doyle's unmistakable
portrait, those characteristic traits familiar now to us who
in these pages have read his inner life : the jest -concealed
cross, the unsuspected loathing, the fear so pleasantly dis
guised, the selfless work and incessant prayer, the loving
trustfulness in God's Will. And as we come to the close
of this life-story, all its incidents are gathered up in memory
to blend into a final cadence : the novice's blood-sealed
covenant, the consuming love and zeal, the hidden reparation,
the vigils and scourgings, the pond at Rathfarnham, the
nettles at Delgany, the mud and blood of West Flanders
and the Pas de Calais. Nothing befitted such a life like
the end of it.

' Did you not know that I must be about my Father's
business ? ' he would have gently asked us had we, prudent
ones, expostulated with him that day for being foolhardy.
His Father's business : not bloodshed and hate and strife,
but mercy and brotherhood and reconciliation. He might,
of course, have stayed behind in Ypres or St. Jean ; he
could, had he wished, have kept out of danger. Perchance
there were some who said, ' He saved others, himself he
cannot save.' They were right. ' For whoever wishes to
save his life will lose it, and whoever for My sake, loses his
life, will save it. What does it avail a man if, after gaining
the whole world, he has lost or forfeited himself ? ' ' For
My sake ' — ' I tell you, as often as you did it for one of these
My brothers, however lowly, you did it for Me.' Beyond
and besides the great legion of faithful ordinary workers,

THE END. 335

there is need of a handful of heroes, men who save others
because they cannot save themselves. Nicely calculated
prudence could not survive without some of the foolishness
of the Cross. The death of a hero or a martyr is a higher
achievement than mere continuance of physical life.

' Lord, if it be Thou,' cried impetuous Peter, ' bid me
come to Thee upon the waters .' And Christ said ' Come '
to foolish Peter, while the prudent apostles remained in the
boat. Surely, as Fr. Doyle on that August morning looked
out upon those undulating Flemish fields where shell-barrage
and bullet-blasts laid low the advancing waves of brave
men, surely he heard the Master's voice bidding him come
to Him upon the waters. And he came ; with his great
hearted faith he never doubted. " I am not foolhardy nor
do I expose myself to danger unnecessarily, the coward is
too strong in me for that ; but wiben duty calls I know I
can count on the help of One who has never failed me yet."
How could he resist ? Out yonder, in Verlorenhoek and
Frezenberg and along the Hannebeek stream, the smashed
and bleeding bodies of his poor fellows were lying. . . .
" My poor brave boys ! They are. lying now out on the
battle-field : some in a little grave dug and blessed by their
chaplain who loves them all as if they were his own children ;
others stiff and stark with staring eyes, hidden in a shell-
hole where they had crept to die ; while perhaps in some
far-off thatched cabin an anxious mother sits listening for
the well-known step and voice which will never gladden
her ear again." Having loved his ' poor brave boys ' in
this world and eased their passage to the next, he loved
them to the end. He did not desert them in their day of
defeat without dishonour. And so, somewhere near the
Cross Roads of Frezenberg, where he lies buried with them,
the 'chaplain and men of the 48th Brigade are waiting
together for the great Reveille.

336 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

APPENDIX

•

SOME FURTHER LETTERS OF FATHER DOYLE

SINCE the issue of the first edition of this book some
further personal letters of Fr. Doyle have come to
light. They are published here because they have a
valuable biographical interest. The intimate records which
have been utilised in the previous pages present us with
one side of his character, a side which was unknown even
to those who lived with him. This rather unexpected
revelation must not be allowed to obscure his intense
humanness and natural gaiety of disposition. These few
letters which survive will show us that even as a novice
he had a fund of humour and an almost irresistible twitching
to play pranks ; his letters from the Front have already
demonstrated that he retained this jocose buoyancy to the
very end. The man who wrestled with aspirations and
plunged into austerities could always crack a joke and enjoy
a hearty laugh. If the Diary of his Long Retreat conjures
up the vision of a sour-visaged, prudish, would-be saint, the
error will be quickly dispelled by reading the con
temporaneous letters here printed. To which may be added
this testimony of one who lived long with Fr. Doyle : " I
found the Life very interesting and very wonderful. Certainly
I have come across no record of austerities practised on
such a scale in recent times. In his early life, until
Ordination, I knew Fr. Doyle very well indeed. We were
together for two years at Stony hurst, and I was thrown
very much in his company. He was always a very reserved
man ; it was impossible to know him ; he never let you
into his secrets, hardly ever, I think, consulted you about
anything. It was impossible to be really intimate with
him, as one always felt that he would not take you into his
confidence. This explains, I think, the fact that people

APPENDIX 337

had no conception of the life he led, which would never
have been known had not his notes been discovered. In
his early life he gave no indication of the sanctity he after
wards attained. He was always, of course, very good ; but
he was better known for his jokes and freaks than for piety.
He was always, however, very determined ; and if he set
his mind on anything, nothing would deter him from carrying
it through. When then, later on, he set himself to become
a saint, it is not surprising that he overcame his own
inclinations as he had overcome all other obstacles." For
those who lived in close association with Fr. Doyle this
estimate, being obvious, need not be reproduced. But for
such as have come to know Fr. Doyle only through
the medium of these printed pages, it is both helpful
and consoling to emphasise the human elements of his
character. It is also desirable in the interests of biographical
accuracy. Hence the publication of these few letters which
in themselves may seem unimportant and ordinary.

I. — LETTER TO HIS SISTER FROM THE NOVICESHIP.
Tullabeg, Christmas, 1891.

I am sure you must have come to the conclusion that
your wild scamp of a brother had gone the way of all flesh,
seeing that not so much as a postage stamp has come from
him for ages ! Perhaps you will forgive my long neglect
when I tell you that since I left Ratcliffe I hardly know
whether I have been on my head or my heels half the time.
It is only now I am beginning to realise all that has happened
since tKen.

It may interest you to know what I have been doing
since I left my Alma Mater. I came home about the middle
of July with the intention of entering Clonliffe ; and what
is the strange part of the whole business is that just before
I left Ratcliffe, I told Fr. Davis, our Spiritual Director,
that I would as soon shoot myself as enter a religious order f
But man proposes and God disposes ; so it was in my case.

338 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

I came down here to see Charlie about the middle of August
twelve months, and spent a few days with him. But I
uttered a fervent Deo Gratias when I found myself on my
way home, thanking my stars that I had not the honour
of putting N.S.J. after my name. Then came a spell of
four months' idleness at home during which someone was
praying hard for a brother of his, and not in vain, for on
Christmas Day, just a year next Friday, grace had done
its work and the ranks of the black-robed Fathers were
swelled by a saintly aspirant to perfection ! Soon after
making up my mind to enter the Society, I applied to the
Provincial for admission, which he readily granted — and no
wonder, seeing the fine fish he had hooked !

I arrived off the coast of Tullabeg on March 3ist, and
was immediately seized upon by Charlie and initiated into
the mysteries and black magic of Jesuit life.

Perhaps you would like to know how things are going
with me here. Well, I am as happy as the day is long,
though at times, I confess, I find it hard to keep from turning
somersaults, jumping out of the window, coming downstairs
head first, or from some other mad freak of the kind.
I often think that if there was any madness running in the
family, it found a resting-place in me ! I suppose you
heard that I have been through the Long Retreat, as it is
called, the retreat of thirty days, which every Jesuit novice
has to make. It was a wonderful time. I do not think
that I ever spent such a happy time in all my life.

II. — LETTER TO HIS MOTHER FROM THE NOVICESHIP.
Tullabeg, Christmas,- 1891.

The time down here is most extraordinary ! They have
only twenty minutes to the hour and about six or seven
of these are called a day — at least that is the conclusion
I have come to. Well, having discovered that Christmas is
at hand, I also discovered (and I am very sorry I did) that
countless letters have to be written. The very first is going

APPENDIX 339

to be to your own loved self to wish you the old wish that
is ever new : A merry Christmas and a happy New Year.

At this point an animated discussion took place between
the writer and the builders of the Crib as to which of the
two animals found among the Crib figures was the donkey
and which the ox. " O(a)x them," said I ; while some one
suggested that if they walked away, the ass would follow,
as birds of a feather flock together. Eventually the
unfortunate ass was ordered to do duty as one of the kings,
and by splitting the ox in two, a capital cow was made out
of one half, while the other half served as the donkey. Such
are the advantages of holy poverty !

As you see we contrive to get a great deal of fun out of
simple things, and since there are thirty young scamps like
myself down here, life manages to be fairly lively. Up to
this the weather has been very mild, but a touch of frost
has come at last and I expect we shall have skating soon.

And now my time (a precious thing here) is up, and I
must stop if I am to get this off to you for to-morrow. I am
very well and very happj^, and that is what you want to
know most. Is it not, dearest Mother ?

III. — LETTER TO HIS SISTER FROM CLONGOWES.
8th April, 1902.

I really intended to send you my Easter greetings in good
time. But with one thing or another I found myself in Holy
Week almost before I well realised that Lent had begun.
And with Holy Week came a multiplicity of duties which
left little spare time ; and then the Easter vacation, vacation
at least for the boys, but not vacation for us poor prefects,
ior we had to be on duty all day. Now however that I
am a bit free, I wish you every happiness and blessing, with
abundance of grace to make you all that our dear Lord
wishes you to be. May you always be faithful to His call.

I was ever so glad to learn that you are keeping well and
strong. I have seldom felt better, thank God ; and the

340 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ.

best proof of this is that I am able to get through my day's
work — and it is not always a light one — as well as any man.
I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you for your prayers
for myself and my boys, and also for your promise to
continue the same. Believe me, you are doing a real
apostolic work in praying for these dear little children.
I could tell you things that have happened which would
show you that your good prayers and those of others have
not been thrown away. I have many an anxious hour to
go through and many difficulties to face ; but the thought
that good souls are interceding on my behalf makes the
burden light.

Now for a bit of good news. We are to go down south
this summer fcr our vacation. . . . About two months
more and you may expect to see me. Till then pray hard
for your wild scamp of a brother who is just as anxious as
yourself to make some little progress in the spiritual life.

IV. — LETTER TO HIS SISTER FROM MILLTOWN PARK.
Morning of his Ordination, 28th July, 1907.

I know that you will be glad to receive a few lines from
the hands which a few hours ago have been consecrated
with the holy oil. Thank God a thousand thousand times,
I can say at long last, I am a priest, even though I be so
unworthy of all that holy name implies. How can I tell
you all that my heart feels at this moment ? It is full to
overflowing with joy and peace and gratitude to the good
God for all that He has done for me, and with heartfelt
thankfulness to the dear old Missionary for all her prayers.
. . . I say my first Mass to-morrow at nine at Hampton
for the dear Parents, the second (also at nine) at Terenure will
be for you. . . . Thank you for all you have done for
me ; but above all thank the dear Sacred Heart for this
crowning grace imparted to your little brother who loves
you so dearly.

APPENDIX 34i

V. — LETTER TO HIS FATHER FROM THE TERTIANSHIP.
Tronchiennes, i4th November, 1907.

Lazarus is risen ! But by mistake they left him in the
tomb thirty-three instead of the scriptural three days ; and
poor Lazarus is jolly glad to get out and breathe again !
We came out of retreat yesterday, having commenced on
the afternoon of Oct. gth. After each eighth day we were
given a walk in the afternoon for some hours, but with the
retreat order of time in the morning and evening. These
three days, however, did not count as part of the thirty
days' retreat. I have nearly forgotten how to talk or write
to you so you must excuse all mistakes. As I wrote to
Fr. Charles, I have been simply amazed at the good form
I have been in all during this trying time, and now at the
end I am wonderfully fresh and fit. Many of the fathers
were not able to go through all the exercises ; but I missed
nothing, not even the hour's meditation at midnight. That
is perhaps the worst thing in the whole retreat. You go
to bed as usual at nine, and then just as you are in the middle
of your best dream, a wretcl\, a perfect villain you think
him, puts his head into your room just as all the clocks of
Ghent are booming twelve and says : Benedicamus Domino
(Let us bless the Lord). By all means, you say, but would
it not do to bless Him between the blankets ? The Psalmist
says, Let them rejoice in their beds ! You feel it is rather
too much of a good joke, but you remark this pleasure only
comes once in a lifetime ; and so you tumble out on the
cold floor (my carpet must have gone off for spring cleaning)
and jump into your togs as quickly as you can, for the
midnight air of Belgium has a sting in it. However the
hour passes quickly, and then one dive for the blanket, though
I felt much more inclined for breakfast. Four o'clock came
round very quickly — I really think there is something amiss
with the clocks here. But in spite of it all and the undoubted
strain of the continued retreat. I do not feel one bit the
worse and I feel a good deal better in the spiritual life.

The truth is, Tronchiennes agrees with me and the food
I find excellent. I was a bit afraid of this, as one fortnight

342 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

in Enghien long ago knocked me out of tune completely.
It is rather hard work getting accustomed to a second
dinner at seven, having dined at twelve ; but ' I does my
endeavours/ and I think I succeed. I now weigh — no, I
won't put it on paper, it looks too terrible when worked
out in kilos. It is nice to say ' I am nine stone,' but if you
say you weigh two or three hundred kilos, people get a bit
alarmed.

As you may imagine, life here is not very exciting. My
chief amusement is listening to the bells of this house or I
should rather say houses, for it is a second Maynooth, huge
in size. There is a special bell for the Lay Brothers and
one for the Lay Brother Novices ; another for the
Noviceship, and a fourth for the Juniors. We have our
own bell and there is a large bell for the whole house ; a
bell to call Fathers who are wanted in the parlour, a brazen-
tongued beast of a bell at the hall door, and to crown all,
the church steeple which was formerly a part of this old
abbey of Premonstratensian monks has a chime all oi its
own. May the Lord be good and send a thunder storm
somewhere near that chime that we might have a little
peace ! . . . .

I have been very fortunate in getting a room facing south,
so that I have the sun all day. My window looks down
on the river which flows past the house ; and I am able to
study Belgian country life and inhale Belgian country smells
from a couple of farms just opposite. The grounds around
are very large, with pretty walks ; one especially along the
bank of the river is a great favourite of mine.

VI. — LETTER TO HIS FATHER FROM ABERDEEN.
Lent, 1908.

As I know you will be anxious to hear of my doings in
Aberdeen during the past three weeks, I will try and jot
down as well as I can all that will be of interest to
you. I know you will not think me egoistical if I talk chiefly
about myself or if I am too self-laudatory ; you will under
stand the motive which inspires the blowing of my own
trumpet.

APPENDIX 343

I was rather uneasy on my way to Scotland, as it was
the first mission ever given by Jesuits in the " granite city,"
and naturally we hoped it would be successful. Then,
though I was very glad to work under such a great man
as Fr. Matthew Power, who is nearly as famous in Scotland
as Fr. Tom Burke was in Ireland, I could not help feeling
that I should play only a very humble second fiddle beside
him. Fr. Power is a tiny creature of only 6 ft. 6 ins. and
18 stone weight, but his heart is as big as himself and from
the start he gave me every encouragement and we soon
became great friends. I have been most fortunate to begin
my missionary career under such a master ; for Fr. Power
has had a vast and varied experience and I learnt very much
from him, and I hope to profit by his advice and hints. My
three weeks' training will stand to me in the future and will
be simply invaluable in time to come. Fr. Power's
personality and name were bound to draw the people, and
I was happy also at the thought that so many good prayers
were being offered for the success of the mission. As I
wrote to you, it has been, thank God, an unqualified success.
We were told by the priests that it was impossible to make
an impression on the Aberdonian Catholics, they were cold,
unemotional, with a great deal of apathy. They are all
well-to-do people in the Cathedral parish, many with plenty
of money, no poor and no Irish. The congregation numbers
1,300 ; the Sunday offering (there is no charge at the door)
averages I3/-, made up chiefly of coppers : I saw one rich
lady in the front bench put a halfpenny in the plate with a
look of regret on her face that she had not got a farthing.
As a proof that we had touched somewhat even the hard
Scottish heart, they contributed £25 on the last Sunday
when a collection was made for the expenses of the Mission !
The priests declared such a thing was unheard of in
Aberdeen ; and I fancy will not be again for some time.

We also succeeded in getting the people to take up daily
Communion, over a hundred go every morning now, though
there were practically none when we came. In many other
ways much and lasting good has been done and the people
have got a lift which they wanted badly, for though very
good at heart, there is far too much coldness and indifference
amongst them.

344 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, S.J.

Even the old Bishop — a typical Scot — caught the general
enthusiasm ; and after a very complimentary speech on
Sunday invited us to come back next year (probably Advent)
and give a renewal of the mission. As you may imagine,
the work has been hard. We found it necessary to change
the original programme and add to the services. This
meant I had to speak on a large number of subjects for which
I was quite unprepared and often I had to preach after a
. few moments hasty thought, but certainly the grace of God
was in abundance. I was not the least bit nervous and
never at a loss for plenty to say. Though the Church is
very large and lofty I was easily able to make myself heard
in every part of it.

| Sunday was a busy day. This was the programme.
I, said Mass at 8 and gave Holy Communion which nearly
filled the time till 9. Then Children's Mass which I
heard with them explaining the various parts of the Mass
as we went along. A rush for breakfast followed by a
sermon at n, the Cathedral being as well filled as at night,
the Scotch love sermons I am told. At 3 o'clock instructions
for children. At 3.30 Fr. Power began a controversial
lecture for non-Catholics, which proved a great success and
is to be continued by the Bishop. At 6 I gave a double
instruction, a quarter of an hour on the Creed, another
quarter on one of the Commandments, Fr. Power following
with the sermon. Four talks in one day I found quite
enough to satisfy my zeal. I got a slight cold and quite
lost my voice on the fifth day, but was able to resume on
the day following. Besides the Children's Mass and evening
instruction we had every day a sermon in the morning, a
double instruction and sermon in the evening, dividing the
honours of the pulpit between us. I was rather tired at
the end, but feel fit and keen to open at Great Yarmouth,
St. Mary's Church, on Sunday.

I have had a moving week. Monday I remained in
Aberdeen very busy with confessions. Tuesday to Glasgow.
Wednesday : came to the Mount. Spent Thursday with L
and F; and to-day I start for Yarmouth. I suppose I may
take my invitation there as a proof that they were satisfied
at Aberdeen, as Fr. Power told me he had written to give
me a " good character."

APPENDIX 345

There are many things, funny and consoling, which I
could tell you about the mission. One lady, who wanted
me to sanction a very shady proceeding, bluntly expressed
her great annoyance : " Really, Father, this is very dis
appointing, I was looking forward to this Mission for I
thought that Jesuits were men of the world \ " What she
intended to say was she thought they had no consciences.
On the last evening another lady came and said, " Father
I want to thank you for the great happiness you have brought
to one home in Aberdeen. My daughter has been in great
trouble for a long time and for years has longed for someone
to whom she could open her heart. You cannot imagine
the joy in that house to-night, and I promise you a grateful
mother's prayers as long as I live."

I got to like the people very much, they are not effusive,
but genuine and sincere, and I felt really sorry at leaving
them. At the close of the mission quite a large number
came to wish us good-bye and to thank us for the mission.
The " holy missioners " have been photographed in various
positions, to be sold for the benefit of the church. I shall
send you copies when they come. I have never met
anywhere such kindness as from the Administrator,
Fr. Meany, and his curates. They made us quite at home
from the start and did everything to help us and make the
mission a success. I have written this in great haste so I
know you will excuse it. When I see you next I shall be
a " bloatered aristocrat " after my stay in Yarmouth. Just
off for the train. A little prayer for my work next week.1

i. — The Bishop was Dr. Chisholm who died in 1918. Father M. Power, S.J. ,
to whom reference is made in the above letter, wrote thus to Mr. Hugh Doyle
on 3ist August, 1917 : " My very dear brother and colleague on the Aberdeen

Mission, Father Wm. Doyle, S.J., is gone Young and inexperienced

at the start of our great mission some years ago, he proved conclusively to me,
his senior, and to all the local clergy and people, that he was a Jesuit Missioner
' to the manner born,' and this from the very first sermon he preached. Every
day he grew in the affection of the Aberdonians until we parted to his great

grief and mine A little panegyric on him has been preached in the

Cathedral, Aberdeen."

346 FATHER WILLIAM DOYLE, SJ

VII. — LETTER TO HIS FATHER FROM YARMOUTH.
2oth April, 1908.

The mission closed last night with a grand nourish of
tmmpets, renewal of vows, and general scorching of the
Old Boy's tail, not to speak of one lady's hat, who, when
I told all to raise their lighted candles, calmly thrust hers
into the middle of a flower garden which she carried on her
head. She was gallantly rescued from the destruction by a
young officer behind her ; perhaps that encounter may have
a happy ending. Naturally speaking I am very glad the week
is over. The physical effort of speaking every night for
well over an hour is a big one, and then there was the
responsibility and strain of having everything on my own
shoulders. Supernaturally I am sorry not to have another
week, for now that I have "

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